Not here, not now
by AlkalineTeegan
Summary: Casefic with ensemble cast. Tony makes a break in a cold case, but will it end up getting him—or his team—in trouble? It's T for some violence and language. Sequel to "Just tell me your name."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I don't own anything pertaining to NCIS. This is a sequel to my previous story, "Just tell me your name." I suggest reading that first or you'll probably be confused at points of this story. That story doesn't affect the case in this one, so if you don't read JTMYN, it'll just be some of the character thoughts that might throw you in this one. I have mentions of child abuse, so if that bothers you, please don't continue! Thanks for reading.

* * *

_So much blood. _

It was pouring from his mouth and nose, and he could barely breathe. He coughed, gagged, spit the vile substance on the dirty ground.

He instinctively knew that the blood wasn't just from the damage to his mouth or the broken nose. Something was wrong—really wrong, if he was honest with himself—internally. He thought back over the beating, remembering his arms being held back while the man pounded fists into his belly.

_Crap,_ he thought, trying to get up, but the waves of pain and blackness threatened to take him under again. _I am not going to die here… Not in this filthy goddamn alley._

He steeled himself against the searing agony in his midsection and, through sheer force of will, got to his knees. He fought the dizziness and shadows that danced at the edges of his vision. He put a hand on the brick wall that swam crazily in front of him—or at least he tried to. He fell forward, having misjudged the distance. He realized his lack of depth perception was caused by his inability to open his left eye.

Lying on his battered face was painful so he curled on his side, left arm cradling what had to be broken ribs. He spat more blood, closing his eyes and trying to think. They had taken his cell with them when they left. He thought about screaming to try to attract attention, but he couldn't draw a deep enough breath to get out more than a whisper.

_Crap, crap, crap._ He briefly thought about letting the blackness take him, but something in him wouldn't let him quit. He'd crawl out of the alley if he had to. _I'm not dying here,_ he thought again and got to his hands and knees. He managed to half-crawl, half-drag himself about halfway to the dark, deserted street before he stopped, closing his eyes, not wanting to see the bright red blood he was currently puking up.

_I'm so screwed, _he thought, but he managed to crawl a few feet farther before collapsing again. He knew he was dead if he didn't get help soon, and that thought spurred him back to his knees. He crawled, not caring that he was cutting his hands on broken glass. The blood from those injuries mixed with what he was trying not to choke on.

He finally made it to the street, only to find it utterly devoid of life. He collapsed again, fighting the blackness until he could fight no longer.

* * *

**Three days earlier**

"Probie!" Tony yelled and threw a wadded up piece of paper at the other agent.

McGee ducked the paper, rolling his eyes. "What?"

"I'm bored. Entertain me."

McGee couldn't help himself. He laughed. "You could go through that stack of cold case files like Gibbs told us to." He added, "Before he kills you."

Tony shook his head. "I did. I've got something hovering right there, but I can't quite grasp it. I need a distraction."

Tony flinched when Gibbs' hand thwacked against the back of his head. Gibbs said, "You need a distraction like you need a hole in the head, DiNozzo."

"I need a pizza," DiNozzo said, undeterred.

"It's after six," Gibbs said, gathering his things. "Go home."

McGee shut down his computer and stood, glad to be going home after a boring day. "You coming, Tony?"

Tony scoffed, watching Gibbs and McGee walk toward the elevator. "I told you, I've got something."

McGee shook his head, reminded again that while his partner joked and goofed off a lot, the man really was a dedicated and gifted investigator. Feeling guilty, McGee said, "You want me to stay?"

"Nah. Go home, McGoo," Tony said, picking up the case file and turning it upside-down, cocking his head at it.

Gibbs bit back a smile and said, "Not too late, DiNozzo. You'd better not be late in the morning."

"Sure, dad," Tony said, waving distractedly as something in the still-upside-down report caught his eye. "I know my bedtime."

The elevator dinged and Tony was alone with the old case. He spent hours going over everything in the file again, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep until he could figure out what was bothering him.

The case was rather straight forward: A Marine had been found, shot through the head from close range, in an alley in a seedy part of town. No witnesses, no ballistics matches, nothing. Interviews revealed a Marine with no family, no friends. Just the Corps. And no one Cpl. Matthew Langworthy had been stationed with in Iraq could think of a reason anyone would want him dead. The investigating agent's notes, meticulously written out on dozens of post-it notes, led Tony to believe the agent was about to give up, considering the lack of leads.

The case was one of Pacci's—in fact, it was his only active case when he died. Re-reading the dead agent's notes, Tony realized what had been bugging him all day. A note revealed that Pacci had been waiting on lab results, but the request did not appear in the actual case file. When Pacci was killed, another agent was assigned the case, which went cold because of a lack of physical evidence or other leads. Tony wondered how the disconnect between the notes and official case file had occurred. Tony shuffled through the post-its, cursing as he pulled apart two notes that had gotten stuck together.

_For such a meticulous guy, this is certainly a sloppy way to keep notes,_ Tony thought, then chastised himself for thinking ill of the dead. He shook a vision of Pacci's bloody body in the elevator from his tired eyes.

"That's it," he said out loud to no one. The office was deserted, lit only by the solitary glow of his desk lamp.

The single post-it reminding Pacci to check with the lab on a single hair he had found must have gotten lost amid the sea of identical notes. The agent who had inherited the case, which seemed hopeless when it landed on his desk, had probably missed the note. Agent Mason, whose name barely registered with Tony, was going to be in for an ass-chewing.

Tony fell asleep at his desk wondering how someone in the lab had forgotten about the pending test.

* * *

Gibbs stepped off the elevator at 0700 the next morning and was torn between amusement and annoyance at finding Tony sleeping, head resting on crossed arms on his desk. He knew Tony did some of his best work alone at night and he appreciated the dedication, but he still worried, even though he'd never say anything.

Gibbs settled behind his own desk and saw Tony twitch in his sleep. In an instant, the younger agent was on his feet with a sharp intake of breath. His breath hitched a couple of times before he saw Gibbs and plastered a smile on his face.

"Morning, Boss," he said cheerily even though he was still shaking inside from the nightmarish image of Pacci, disemboweled in the elevator.

Gibbs watched the transformation with something like awe as DiNozzo went from totally unguarded and obvious shaken by whatever nightmare he'd awoken from to cheerful, awake and unfazed in a half-second.

"I thought I said not too late?" Gibbs said, knowing it was better if he didn't voice his concern over the nightmare.

"Who said I was up late?" DiNozzo asked, grinning. "I could have been passed out on my desk before Letterman for all you know."

Gibbs snorted, letting Tony know he didn't believe it for a second.

"Figure out what was bugging you?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah," Tony said, gathering his things to go to the locker room and change. "But can we talk about it when I get back?"

Gibbs nodded, watching his agent walk stiffly to the elevator. He knew what sleeping behind a desk did to his knee and wondered how DiNozzo's was feeling. He wondered where his agent would be if he hadn't blown out that knee in college. _Probably living it up, wearing fancy clothes, walking around with a pretty girl on each arm, _Gibbs thought.

"Morning, Boss," McGee said, breaking into Gibbs' thoughts.

Gibbs nodded his greeting, his thoughts turning elsewhere. He really wanted to know what Tony had found in the cold case. Dead Marines deserved justice and every single unsolved case, his team's or not, weighed heavily on him.

Ten minutes later, the elevator dinged and Tony walked out, Abby on one arm and Ziva, reluctantly, on the other. Gibbs took in DiNozzo's designer shirt and tie and had to fight the smile that threatened to creep across his face. Life sure was funny sometimes.

Ziva disentangled herself from Tony and tossed a glare in his direction. He could be so juvenile sometimes. But she had to admit sometimes it was nice. She shook her head and smiled as she settled behind her desk.

"Abby," Gibbs said, wondering why the scientist was in front of him instead of in her lab.

"Morning, Gibbs!" she gave him a little salute. "I'm here for actual work-related stuff."

He smiled, wondering how she could always read him when others couldn't… _wouldn't?_

DiNozzo went to his desk and poked at a sticky note, adhering it to his finger. He brandished it dramatically. "This is what was bothering me yesterday."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes while McGee rolled his. Gibbs said, "I hope it's something other than it being a bad way to keep notes. I always told Pacci that. He said he liked it because he could rearrange them and look at things differently."

DiNozzo nodded. "But, the little buggers tend to stick together." He waved his finger in the air, and the note flapped but still stuck tightly.

The agent continued, putting forth his theory to the team.

"Mason is going to have some answering to do," Gibbs said.

_Mason's a dead man, _McGee thought.

"But that still doesn't explain why you're here, Abbs," Gibbs continued. "Or why the lab tech didn't follow up, even if it was off the record."

Ziva looked from Gibbs to Abby. "Because Abby was the lab tech?"

It took most of her Mossad training to hide the wince when four pairs of eyes turned and glared at her.

"Sorry," she said, wondering why she had spoken. She knew as well as the rest of them that Abby did not forget about things and did not screw up.

"The sticky note said 'lab tech' only," DiNozzo said. "No name. I asked around and no one remembered Pacci asking them to run a hair off the record—"

"Wait," McGee interrupted. "You asked around this morning? Is anyone here? There was no one here when we left last night—"

DiNozzo didn't wait for him to finish. He wanted to get on with it. There was a Marine awaiting justice. "I got all the techs' names from personnel and called them at home. What? It was only a little after midnight. _I_ was up."

Gibbs smirked a little at that. "Thought you said you were out before Letterman?"

"You ever sleep soundly behind a desk?" DiNozzo retorted.

"You called Abby?" Ziva asked before Gibbs could reply. It appeared Tony wasn't the only one who was good at deflecting the boss's ire.

"Girl's got a mind like a steel trap, and nothing goes through that lab without her knowing," DiNozzo said, shooting a grateful look at Ziva. "Abby."

Abby actually blushed at Tony's praise. "I didn't remember at first because, well, it was almost 5 a.m. and that's late even by my standards. Or is that early?" She pondered that a second while Tony actually had the grace to look sheepish at Gibbs' glare. Gibbs lifted an eyebrow. _5 a.m.?_

Abby continued. "Whatever. But then Tony promised me a CafPow—and I guess just the thought of that pepped me right up—and I remembered overhearing Agent Pacci talking with Scott Bell about a test he wanted done, off the record. I remember because Pacci said he thought the hair was from his probie, Taryn Watts, and she was just being sloppy. I don't think he thought she was going to be a good agent, but he said he didn't want to embarrass her officially by having her hair as part of the case file. He said it wouldn't be good for her, but I think he was being too nice. I mean, you guys don't screw up. Bad things happen if you guys screw up so someone who isn't up to the job shouldn't be on the job."

"Well," DiNozzo said, "Watts isn't on the job. She quit NCIS and moved to Seattle. Has a husband and a kid now."

"But," Abby said, bouncing as her excitement rose. "Bell isn't on the job either. He just stopped showing up for work one day. No one has heard from him since."

"Let me guess," Gibbs said, "That 'one day' was right after this case."

DiNozzo answered, his eyes sad. "Pacci asked Bell to run the hair the day before he died, end of the day. Bell never came in the next day. Or the day after that. Or…"

"We investigate?" Gibbs asked. It was standard procedure for NCIS to investigate whenever personnel didn't show up for work without notice, even when the employee was a civilian.

DiNozzo nodded. "Yeah, found nothing. Guy fell off the face of the earth. Bank accounts were drained and then nothing."

"Family?" Gibbs asked.

"Brother in Culpeper, Virginia," DiNozzo said. "Parents in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. All said the same thing. Worried sick about him. He would never do anything bad. Like anyone ever sees us coming and says, 'Oh, sure, cousin Jimmy probably did it. Guy's a flippin' psycho.' "

Gibbs rose and walked over to Tony, who flinched in expectation of the headslap. Gibbs just nodded and said, "Tony, McGee, you're going to Lancaster. Ziva, you're with me in Culpeper."

Gibbs strode toward the elevator as Ziva scurried to catch up. Tony called, "Hey, Boss? Was the lack of a headslap a substitute for a 'Good job!' because sometimes if you don't say what you mean, people might misunderstand your true feelings!"

Gibbs just shook his head as the doors closed, Ziva barely making it inside.

Tony turned to McGee with a wicked grin. "You know what this means, Probie."

McGee nodded.

"Road trip!"


	2. Chapter 2

McGee, walking toward the government-issue sedan, caught the keys Tony flipped at him barely an inch from his nose. He looked at Tony in surprise. "I'm driving?"

Tony stopped by the passenger door and leaned against the car, arms resting on the roof. He smiled. "You are old enough to drive, right, McPermit?"

McGee eyed Tony suspiciously. There was something off in his tone, even the joke was uttered too softly for Tony. Not to mention DiNozzo never let him drive.

"Of course," McGee said, sliding behind the wheel. He looked over at his partner. "They even let me carry a gun." McGee gauged Tony's reaction, worried about his friend. The smile Tony gave him was subdued and McGee wondered what had happened between the grin in the squad room and the parking lot.

_Or had that grin been fake? _McGee wondered. He had learned a lot about Tony during a recent case, especially that Tony was a master at covering his real emotions. McGee wondered if it had something to do with Ziva. He suspected that the two had broken Rule No. 12 shortly after Tony's release from the hospital, but then they seemed to change subtly. McGee wondered if they had broken up, causing Tony's subdued mood. He glanced over at his partner, watching him put the Lancaster address into the GPS unit.

Tony felt McGee's eyes on him and, without looking up, said, "Say it, Probie. It's a long drive, about two and half hours, according to this thing." He lifted the unit and looked over at McGee. "Ask it," he said, reading the younger agent's expression.

McGee sighed as he turned the car onto the I-295 ramp. "I just… You…"

Tony gave him a half-smile and decided to let the poor guy off the hook. "Never mind, Tim. It must not be important."

"See?" McGee asked, merging into the light traffic, thankful they had left after the morning rush hour. "You never call me Tim. And you haven't been teasing me much lately. I mean," he took a breath and plunged on. "I know that case a couple months ago was hell on you, and I … Well… I just thought you would have bounced back by now."

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Tim cut him off. "What I'm really saying is you go back and forth between the old you and a newer, more subdued you, and I'm worried that the new you is the real you and you're just faking the old you so we won't worry about you. And then there's you and Ziva. Are you seeing each other? Were you?"

Tony didn't speak for a moment. He just looked down at the GPS in his hands.

McGee cringed at the silence, glad he could focus on the road and not see the look on Tony's face. "I'm sorry, Tony. I shouldn't be saying all of this. And I definitely shouldn't be asking about you and Ziva. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset." He lifted the GPS. "I just need a road map to find my way through all that."

McGee smiled. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't apologize. I'm your partner. You need to know if I'm all here."

McGee sighed again. "Tony, I'm not questioning your sanity or whether you're fit to do this job. I trust you completely to have my back. It's not about the job. I'm talking to you as a friend right now because, honestly, it's something I should have done sooner." His next words were spoken softly. "I remember thinking during the Bennett case that there's no way we shouldn't have seen how hard suicide cases were for you."

"McGee, I wouldn't have wanted anyone to notice. I don't like being coddled."

"But you would have noticed if the roles had been reversed."

Tony couldn't argue with that. He was quiet a moment. "Ziva and I were seeing each other. She told me she loved me when I was in the hospital, and I told her I loved her, too."

Tony waited for McGee to respond, and he glanced over and saw the lack of expression on his face. "You knew."

McGee reddened and nodded. "She almost broke my arm in the stairwell at your building. I startled her and she was crying. She told me she loved you… among other things."

"I can guess at those," Tony said. "We talked a lot. Actually, that's pretty much all we did before we both decided we're better friends than lovers."

McGee gaped at Tony so long he almost rear-ended the car in front of them. "So you two never…?"

Tony grinned. "Well, yeah, McGee. We … did." His smile changed, became more serious. "But we're not right for each other as a couple. I talk too much. She doesn't like movies…."

"But she seems different lately."

"She opened up a lot to me, Tim," Tony said, staring out the window. "She has been through a lot in her life, and I think getting some of it out has made her relax some."

"So it's like us right now," McGee ventured.

"Sure, Tim," Tony said.

The silence that followed was only slightly awkward.

"Traffic's not bad," McGee said.

"Not bad at all, Probie," Tony agreed amiably, though his thoughts were elsewhere.

* * *

Gibbs and Ziva arrived in Culpeper after a silent hour and a half drive from D.C. Ziva spent most of the trip wondering what she had done wrong. Gibbs was never talkative, but the silence in the car had not been the usual easy kind she was used to with her boss. Thinking back, she realized he had been acting strangely toward her for weeks now. She put the thoughts to the back of her mind as they approached their destination.

Scott Bell's brother, Richard, lived above a store on Main Street. Ziva followed Gibbs up the stairs and waited while he knocked.

The door was opened by a disheveled-looking blond man with eyes so light blue they looked almost translucent. Ziva could see the man assessing them as cops right away.

"Richard Bell?" Gibbs asked, flashing his badge even though he had seen the man's eyes narrow upon opening the door. He wondered why the man distrusted police.

"Ricky," the man answered.

"May we come in?" Ziva asked, then identified them as NCIS agents. "We have some questions about your brother."

The man looked nervously behind him. "It's kind of a mess. Can we talk downstairs at the coffee shop?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Something in there you don't want us to see?"

Ricky laughed harshly. "Yeah. About a month's worth of dirty dishes and laundry. What can I say? I'm a bad housekeeper."

Gibbs and Ziva exchanged a look, but Gibbs said, "Fine. Downstairs."

Ricky closed the door behind him without locking the door or grabbing keys. _Apparently people don't lock their doors in Culpeper_, Ziva thought.

Ziva followed Ricky who followed Gibbs down the stairs. Ziva smiled at the tactic, even though she didn't think Ricky was about to make a run for it. He had to know they weren't interested in whatever small-time crime he was hiding, unless it pertained to his brother's disappearance. Ziva wondered about that as they entered the quiet shop. Perhaps the brothers had been into something illegal and his disappearance had nothing to do with Cpl. Langworthy's death.

Ziva tucked that thought away for later as they sat. "Your brother, Scott, was a lab tech at NCIS who just stopped coming to work one day."

"Is that a question?" Ricky asked, earning a glare from Gibbs. He said, "Look, agents came by after he disappeared and asked a bunch of questions. I told them everything I know."

"Have you heard from Scott since the agents came?" Gibbs asked.

"No, man, of course not. I would have called you guys if I had."

Ziva gave him a look. "Really? You would have contacted the authorities if Scott contacted you? What if he told you he had committed a crime?"

Something in Ricky's expression changed. "I may not like cops and Scotty may be my little brother, but I haven't done anything wrong here and I don't think Scotty did either. We got into trouble when we were younger. We grew up in Lancaster and there's nothing to do there. So we got into trouble with the law once or twice. Well, I got into trouble."

"You took the heat for your brother," Gibbs said.

"Yeah," Ricky said, running a hand through his hair. "Scotty's the smart one. Everyone knew that. I knew he was gonna make something of himself and he proved me right when he got that lab job. You wouldn't have hired him if he had a record so it all worked out."

"Until he disappeared," Ziva said.

"Yeah," Ricky said shortly. "Until he disappeared with the inheritance he got from our uncle."

Gibbs and Ziva exchanged a look. DiNozzo hadn't mentioned an inheritance.

"Look," Ricky said, sighing. "I don't know what happened to Scotty. Honestly, I have thought that maybe Scotty took the money—it was a lot of money—and split. He always said he would share it with me, but maybe he changed his mind, you know?"

Ziva suddenly felt bad for the man in front of her. It was obvious how much he cared for his brother. She said gently, "Have you ever thought that something could have happened to him? His disappearance may be linked to the murder of a Marine."

"Like he was taking the money out to split with me and then fell off a cliff?" Ricky laughed bitterly. "I somehow don't think so, Agent David. Those other agents? They said Scott went into the bank and withdrew it all. No one had a gun to his head. I may believe that he's on a beach somewhere, living it up, but I can't see why Scotty would kill a Marine."

Gibbs gave him a hard look, sensing he was holding back. "Unless?"

Ricky looked away.

"Ricky?" Ziva said softly. "Please. We just want to find your brother. We need your help."

Ricky was quiet a moment. "We did drugs in high school. Maybe while Scotty was living in D.C., he got hooked again. He lived in a crappy part of town so it probably would have been easy for him to slip back into it. Maybe he took the money and left because he didn't want to fail a drug test at work."

"What kind of drugs?" Gibbs asked, something nagging at the back of his mind.

"We smoked pot, did a little coke every now and then."

"Is that why we're talking here and not upstairs?" Gibbs asked. "You still do drugs? Deal?"

"No," Ricky said, looking Gibbs in the eye. "I quit. I really am just a bad housekeeper."

"Is there anything else you think could help us?" Ziva asked. "Anything at all?"

Ricky shook his head, looking sad. "You'll tell me if you find him?"

Ziva nodded as she and Gibbs stood.

Ricky looked up from where he still sat. "Even if you find out that he did kill that Marine, I want to know that you found him. He's my brother, you know?"

"Yeah," Gibbs said, headed for the door. "We know."

* * *

Tony and McGee sat in a quaint country kitchen inside a farmhouse in Lancaster. Upon pulling in the driveway, Tony had almost stayed in the car at the sight of the barn looming on the property, but once he forced himself out of the car, there was no scent of hay in the crisp December air. And for that, he was extremely thankful. He was also glad that if McGee had noticed his hesitation, he hadn't said anything about it. Tony had had enough serious conversation on the way and the coming interview wasn't going to be easy, either.

McGee thanked Irene Bell for the tea she poured, and he said, "Thank you for seeing us, Mr. and Mrs. Bell."

The overall-clad man said, "It's Phil and Irene, please."

McGee nodded. "Of course. And we know you talked to agents before, when Scott disappeared, but this is really important."

Irene wiped away a tear. "I can't believe he's been gone so long. Days turned into months… and now it's been years since I've seen my little boy."

Phil patted his wife's hand as Tony asked, "What did you talk about the last time you saw him?"

"It was Thanksgiving," Phil said. "He was really excited about his job. He loved NCIS and all that lab stuff he did. I didn't always understand what he was talking about, but I knew he was doing important work. That was all that mattered."

"Did you speak often?" McGee asked.

Irene answered, "He called us every Sunday. We chatted about weather, the farm, his job…"

"Was there anything unusual in your last phone call?" Tony asked gently, fearing Irene was about to break down. "We believe your son's disappearance may be linked to the murder of a Marine."

She shook her head and dried her tears on her apron. Her voice was strong when she said, "No. Nothing unusual."

Phil spoke, still patting his wife's hand. "If I had to pick one of my boys to get into trouble, it would be Ricky. Scott was smart, ambitious. Ricky got into trouble with the law when he was young. Drugs."

Phil shook his head, lost in the past.

"The family always knew Scotty was the 'good' one," Irene said bitterly. "My brother left money to Scott when he died and not to Ricky because of the drugs. But both of my sons are good boys. Ricky has a job now and he's quit drugs."

Phil smiled at his wife. "That's right. He's clean now."

The smile died when Tony said, "That money disappeared with Scott. He withdrew it from the bank the day he didn't show up for work."

Phil narrowed his eyes at Tony. "I know what you're insinuating. You think he took the money and ran off because he killed that Marine. It's not true. He wouldn't."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bell," Tony said. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

Phil stood angrily, and Tony was instantly on his feet, eye to eye with the big man who outweighed him by about fifty pounds. "Right," Phil sneered, getting in Tony's face. "No disrespect when you call my son a killer."

Tony leveled an even look at the man. "We have to investigate every angle."

McGee rose to his feet, ready to act if the situation escalated. "I think that's all we need."

Phil didn't back down, and McGee could see anger radiating from his large frame. McGee wondered how Tony could stand there looking so unfazed.

Phil's voice was hate-filled when he said, "Then why don't you investigate who killed my boy?"

Irene started to cry, and as McGee moved to comfort her, Phil grabbed Tony by the throat and shoved him against the wall hard enough to rattle the dishes in the cabinets.

"Why don't you tell me where my boy is?" Phil shouted into Tony's face before McGee grabbed him by the arms and started to cuff him.

"Don't, McGee," Tony said, a hand at his reddened throat.

"He just assaulted a federal officer," McGee argued, snapping the cuffs around Phil's massive wrists. McGee was glad the man wasn't resisting.

"Uncuff him, McGee," Tony said. McGee followed the order once he heard the tone of his partner's voice. "It was just a misunderstanding, Tim."

McGee followed Tony to the door and was shocked to hear his partner say, "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Bell, to make you go through this again."

Irene nodded and watched her husband stalk out of the room. "Please find my son. My husband thinks he's dead, but I … I would know if my baby were dead. He's not. Please find him."

"We'll do our best, ma'am," Tony said.

McGee was silent as they got in car again, him driving again.

Neither spoke. Tim seethed as Tony stared out the window into the descending darkness, lost in thought.

_Young Tony's feet kicked at the air as he struggled to draw in oxygen. He couldn't. His father's hand was locked around his neck, holding him a foot above the floor of his study._

"_This is what she felt, boy." _

_Tony could smell the alcohol on his father's breath and it made his stomach turn. He guessed it had been about thirty seconds since he himself had taken a breath._

_It felt like an eternity._

_His lungs burned in his chest, and he wondered if his father was going to kill him. He thought about his mom, and a tear slipped down his bruised cheek. He had been expecting the backhand when he came into his father's study, but not for his big hand to catch his throat in a bruising grip, lifting his small frame completely off the floor. _

"_This was the last thing she felt. The need for air, to breathe. She died and it should have been you."_

_His father finally released him and he collapsed into a heap on the floor, struggling to breathe. His father kicked him in the side. "Get up."_

_Tony rose to his feet, swaying a bit from the lack of oxygen._

"_Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you now? Why do you deserve to live when she's dead?"_

_Tony forced the words from his damaged throat and they came out raspy. "I don't have one, sir."_

McGee turned his attention from the road to his partner, finally breaking the silence. "What the _hell_, Tony?"

Tony jumped a little, his partner's angry voice breaking him from his reverie. He shook the images from his head and tried to remember why McGee was so pissed.

"He hurt you, Tony," McGee said, his anger fading at the sick look on Tony's face. McGee thought back to a few years ago when he walked in on Ducky and Gibbs speculating about Tony's childhood. Neither had seen him, but he had certainly heard them. If Tony's reaction to Ryan Bennett's beating hadn't been enough to convince him that Ducky had been right, the look on Tony's face right now sure did.

Tony sighed. "I called his missing son a killer. He reacted like you expect a grieving father to react."

"The money's gone," McGee said, focusing on the road again. "Why would Bell take out all of his money unless he was in the wind?"

"We're investigators, Tim," Tony said, unnerving McGee with the use of his given name. "Of course we see it that way. And they're parents, of course they see it the way they do."

McGee glanced at the red marks on his partner's throat. "But he didn't have to attack you."

"Nope. But he did. And I'm not about to arrest a grief-stricken man for a momentary lapse in judgment with no real consequences."

McGee raised an eyebrow at that. "The marks on your neck aren't consequences?"

"Minor, McGee. I'm fine."

McGee was about to disagree when he glanced over and saw the guarded look on Tony's face. He obviously didn't want to talk about it, and there was nothing McGee could do it about it now so he probably should let it drop.

But he said, "People have to pay for their mistakes."

"No, Probie," Tony said quietly. "They should pay, but they don't always _have_ to."


	3. Chapter 3

Ziva slid into the passenger seat beside Gibbs. "He seemed genuinely upset about his brother. I believe he has not had contact with him."

Gibbs just nodded as he pulled back onto Main Street.

"If I were Scott Bell, and I had just been given a hair sample that I knew would implicate me in a murder, I would just fake the result. Say it is negative even if it is mine," Ziva mused out loud.

"Unless you were testing it off the record and were afraid someone else might do the official test."

Ziva considered that, nodding. Something she thought about at the coffee shop came back to her. "Or unless I had started doing drugs again and knew I was going to get caught. I have the inheritance. Running seems like an easy out."

Gibbs nodded. "I can see that, too. I was thinking back there about what Ricky said about Scott living in a bad part of town and having easy access to drugs. Cpl. Langworthy was found in a bad section. See if they were the same."

Ziva leafed through both files until she found the information. "Langworthy was found a block from Bell's apartment."

"Any drugs show up on Langworthy's tox screen?"

Ziva flipped more pages. "None. But that does not mean that Cpl. Langworthy could not have seen Bell doing something illegal. Perhaps Bell killed him because he was a witness."

"A witness to what?" Gibbs asked.

"A drug deal?"

"Maybe," Gibbs said. "A Marine with a strong sense of duty like Langworthy seemed to have might report something like that."

"Or he was blackmailing Scott," Ziva said.

Gibbs frowned, not wanting to believe the Marine would have resorted to blackmail, but knowing they had seen plenty of Marines disgrace the uniform. He couldn't rule it out. "Find out if Bell had any contact with Langworthy when we get back."

Ziva nodded. She paused. "Gibbs."

Gibbs glanced her way. "Yeah?"

"Lately, it seems that you have been … distant towards me. I am wondering if it has something to do with me and Tony. You should know we are no longer seeing each other. It just didn't work out between us," she said honestly.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, and Ziva furrowed her brow. "But you knew we broke up. Of course you knew."

Gibbs gave her a half-smile and decided to be honest. She _had_ saved his life. "I thought you two would be good together. The way he looks at you … But I guess some people are just better as friends."

Ziva nodded. "That is what we found."

There was a silence as Gibbs drove. Ziva suddenly said, "You have noticed his mood lately, too, then. You thought I broke up with him and caused it. I mean, I know you care very deeply about him and you only got closer after the Bennett mess. You thought I hurt him."

Gibbs gave her a look, unnerved that she had discovered the truth so easily. "I'm sorry, Ziva, if I've been cold to you. DiNozzo's a damned good agent, and he's my friend. He's a good person."

Ziva smiled. "Well, we definitely agree on that."

* * *

Upon their return, Ziva started going through case files trying to find a link between Bell and Langworthy while Gibbs went to the basement to have Ducky review Langworthy's autopsy.

Gibbs arrived back in the squad room a minute before McGee and DiNozzo stepped off the elevator. Tony saw both Ziva and Gibbs do double-takes at the marks on his neck, which he knew were starting to turn into purplish bruises.

"I guess your interview was more interesting than ours," Ziva said, rising and blocking Tony's path when he tried to evade her. She put a hand to his throat, gently brushing her fingertips across the bruises. Her dark eyes were sympathetic when she asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Ziva," he said, just as gently taking her wrist and moving her hand away.

_She'd break my arm for that_, McGee thought, watching the somewhat intimate exchange and wondering if they really had called it quits.

Gibbs just watched them, noting the way Tony wouldn't look at him. Gibbs knew the younger man was still embarrassed by his breakdown in the hospital, however fleeting—and necessary, Gibbs thought—it had been.

Ziva broke eye contact with Tony and fluidly picked up the plasma remote. "I found a link between Cpl. Langworthy and Scott Bell. Langworthy's entire unit was implicated in a rape a month before his death, and he had his DNA taken here. Turns out the woman's non-military boyfriend did it, and the case was closed. _But_, Bell was the technician who took Langworthy's DNA."

"That fits your theory that Langworthy saw Bell doing something illegal and was killed for it," Gibbs said. "Now we just need to find out what Langworthy saw." He turned to DiNozzo and McGee. "You get anything from the parents? Besides the bruises?"

Tony flinched, but recovered quickly and said, "Parents think he's innocent, naturally. Mom swears he's alive. Dad thinks he's dead."

"That's where the, uh, issue was," McGee said, still slightly mad at Tony for being so casual about the assault. "Dad didn't appreciate Tony calling his son a killer."

"Too bad," Gibbs said flatly. "It's looking more and more likely. Langworthy was killed a block from Bell's apartment."

"I am thinking drugs might be involved in this," Ziva said. "Judging by the area and also because Ricky Bell said he and his brother were both users in high school."

Tony looked up sharply. "Both were into drugs?"

"According to the brother," Gibbs said, watching Tony fidget with his collar, trying to pull the material up to cover the livid marks on his neck. "You get a different story?"

"Parents said it was just Ricky who did drugs," McGee answered. "That's why the uncle left the money only to Scott."

"Ricky said he always covered for Scott to keep him out of trouble," Gibbs said. "But he could have been lying."

"The mother said the whole family knew Scott was the 'good' one," McGee mused. "Maybe Ricky lied to make himself look better."

"But the mother also said both of them were 'good' boys," Tony said. "Maybe that meant she knew both were users."

"What about the money?" Ziva asked.

"What about it?" Gibbs returned. "Scott got all of it, and he withdrew all of it when he skipped town the day after Pacci asked him to test the hair. We're talking to that banker tomorrow."

"Does anyone else find it odd that Pacci picked Bell to test the hair?" Tony asked suddenly.

Three pairs of eyes turned to him, including a fourth they couldn't see. He continued, "That's a hell of a coincidence that Bell was handed evidence from his own crime."

Abby cleared her throat from behind them, making McGee jump. She said, "Not really. Pacci gave him the hair about seven at night. Scott worked flex hours, usually noon to nine or so. He said he didn't like mornings, and no one cared because it meant there was almost always someone available. That meant it was about fifty-fifty whether he or I got it, and I was on my way out when I overheard them."

"Well," Tony said, "there you go. Not such a coincidence after all."

Abby stepped closer into the dimly lit circle and noticed the bruises on Tony's throat. Her eyes widened, but he shook his head and gave her a look begging her not to say anything. She bounced with the energy it took to keep from flying to her friend's side.

"So the money isn't really an issue except that it financed Bell's flight," McGee said, watching the unspoken exchange between Tony and Abby with something like jealousy. "I mean, he wasn't killed for it."

"Certainly not by his family," Ziva agreed. "The brother's apartment was no extravagance."

"Parents live in the farmhouse that's been in their family for generations," McGee said. "So we've got proximity and the fact that Bell and Langworthy knew each other."

"Why didn't any of this come up years ago, during the original investigation?" Tony wondered aloud.

There was a silence, broken by McGee. "No one saw the incidents as related even though Pacci's team handled both. Mason took the murder of Langworthy because he was senior agent, and Watts the probie got the disappearance. From the notes, it looks like they didn't work together."

Tony said softly, "Not to mention their team leader had just been murdered."

Gibbs made a sound of disgust. "No excuse. Rule No. 15: Always work as a team."

"Maybe we should get Mason in on this," McGee said.

"No," Gibbs barked. "He had his chance. He screwed up, and I don't want him on this. But we can talk to him. Find him."

"It is late, Gibbs," Ziva said. "He probably went home."

Gibbs just glared.

Ziva nodded. "Tony and I will go to his home."

"Take McGee," Gibbs said, not giving a reason.

As soon as McGee and Ziva left for Mason's home and Gibbs was out the door for coffee, Abby rushed to Tony's side. Her fingers mimicked Ziva's earlier motion as she gently touched his bruises.

"I thought you went to interview parents?"

"McGee and I got into a fight on the way," Tony joked, not wanting to talk about it.

Abby's hand dropped and she glared at him. "That's not funny, Tony. Somebody _choked_ you."

"Scott's father got pissed when I insinuated that his son was killer," Tony shrugged, as if that explained it all.

"He probably is. I never really got a feel for him," she said, propping a black-clad hip against Tony's desk while Tony dropped tiredly into his chair. "He never seemed _real_, you know? Like he was never himself."

Tony just raised an eyebrow at her.

"I mean, he never got mad. Never seemed impatient. Never yelled or even seemed sad. He was just … emotionless," she shook her head. "He was a houseplant."

Tony smiled at that, wondering when Gibbs would be back and why he had told Ziva and McGee to go talk to Mason. He hoped it wasn't so he could grill him about the attack. Tony was hoping Gibbs would just let it go and not ream him out for not arresting Bell for assault on a federal officer.

"Well, I'm out," Abby said. "Gibbs is taking forever so tell him I said goodnight."

"Sure, Abbs. Goodnight."

Tony started to go through Watts' notes from the Bell disappearance. He read the same paragraph three times before shoving it away and resting his head in his hands, palms pressed against aching eye sockets.

"Go home, Tony," Gibbs said, startling him.

_How does he always catch me?_

"But when McGee and Ziva get back—"

"I told them to go home afterward. They can report in the morning."

Tony stood and stretched, his knee giving a loud pop as he straightened. He winced at the pain and was glad to be going home to get some sleep somewhere other than behind a desk.

"And leave the file," Gibbs said, studying his agent. "Go home and sleep."

Tony dropped the Bell file and gathered his things. "Night, Boss."

Gibbs watched him walk to the elevator, then grabbed his coffee and followed. Tony felt his presence behind him and turned, giving Gibbs a good look at his neck.

"Yeah?" Tony asked, confused.

"You sure you're okay?" Gibbs asked softly, nodding at his bruised throat, the question conveying so much more than the four little words spoken.

"Yeah, Boss, I'm fine."


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay, maybe I'm not so fine,_ Tony thought later that night in his kitchen, pouring himself a drink. He studied the golden liquid and took a small sip, feeling the burn of it all the way to his toes. He poured the rest of it down the drain, as he always did, and heaved a sigh.

He was glad he couldn't drown his sorrows in alcohol. _Like daddy did, _a faraway voice whispered in his head.

He realized he still held the glass. He could smell the scant drops that remained in the bottom, and he suddenly felt like throwing up, remembering the ever-present smell of alcohol that accompanied his childhood "lessons."

Tony couldn't stop the flood of memories that returned at that vile word, and he pitched the glass across the room, where it shattered against the wall. The smell of alcohol intensified and Tony sank against the cabinets, face buried in arms resting on his knees.

"_You never learn, do you? All these lessons I try to teach you, and you never learn."_

"_I'm sorry, sir," young Tony said, facing his father in the man's expensively decorated study. He bit his lip, trying not to cry. _

"_Do you think everything is free, boy? Do you know how many children would love to trade places with you?"_

Not many,_ Tony thought bitterly, but he said, "Lots, sir. I'm sorry."_

"_You're damned right you're sorry. A sorry excuse for a son. You ruined a very expensive pair of trousers doing whatever the hell it was you decided to do instead of coming home from school immediately, as you've been told to."_

"_We were playing football, sir. Those boys never ask me to do anything with them and I thought it would be fun."_

"_Those boys are trash who are jealous of your standing, of your name. Football is for trash like them. Whatever happened to the expensive golf clubs I bought for you?"_

"_They're in my closet, sir. I don't like golf very much," Tony said, his eyes downcast._

"_You're a DiNozzo. Of course you like golf. Look at me."_

_Tony looked up and saw the glass of whiskey had moved to his father's left hand. He started to tremble. _

"_No more football. No more hanging around trash."_

_Tony cringed away from his father's rising voice. He thought about making a run for the door—he had been pretty fast out on the field today. His father raised his hand to strike him and Tony's instincts kicked in. _

_He ran._

_He made it to the door, mostly because he had never run before and it took the old man by surprise. Tony reached out to grab the doorknob, but a hand locked around his wrist and wrenched his arm up behind his back._

_Tony cried out in pain as he felt bones snapping under the brutal grip. The next thing he knew he was on his back, his father pinning him to the scratchy rug with a hand clamped over his mouth._

"_We have guests, you little brat," his father hissed into his face._

_The alcohol on his breath wafted over Tony's face and he stopped breathing so the awful scent wouldn't make him sick. Not that he could breathe through his mouth anyway, with the big hand there. _

"_I will not have my associates disturbed by your mouth. Do you understand?"_

_Tony tried to nod, but the hand felt like it was crushing his jaw and he could barely move. He prayed he wouldn't start screaming at the pain in his broken wrist as his father moved his hand. _

_Tony lay there beneath the big man, gasping and shaking and wishing for this to be over. He saw the disgust in his father's eyes as he looked down at him like a piece of garbage on an otherwise spotless floor. _

Please don't hit me, please,_ Tony thought. Sometimes he thought forcing out the lies about where he got the bruises was worse than the actual beatings. _

_His father stood, and Tony closed his eyes in relief even as his wrist throbbed mercilessly._

Tony leaned his head back against the cabinets and held the wrist that still ached when it rained to his chest. It had occurred to him as an adult that the boys were jealous of him, as his father had said. He often wondered if they had invited him to play knowing he would get into trouble. He always noticed the self-satisfied, smug little smiles they gave him whenever he showed up to school with fresh bruises. It was like they wanted him to suffer for having all the things money could buy—all the things they didn't have. Kids could be cruel.

He suddenly wished Ziva were with him. He hadn't been able to tell her about the awful things his father did to him, but she had somehow always known when he was feeling like he was more in the past than the present. He wanted her there so badly he pulled out his cell and stared at the little screen.

Finally, he closed the phone, got up and went to clean up his mess.

* * *

The team reassembled in the squad room at 0700 the next morning. Ziva and McGee quickly stowed their things and then reported their conversation with Agent Mason.

"He hated Watts," McGee said. "He agreed with Pacci that she wasn't cut out to be a field agent and he resented having to work with her. He had no idea Pacci gave the hair to Bell, but he agreed that it probably was Watts' because she was sloppy, according to him."

"Of course he had no idea Pacci gave Bell the hair," Gibbs grumbled. "He missed the damn note."

"About that, Gibbs," Ziva said. "He swears it wasn't in the file when he got it."

"Of course he does. He doesn't want to admit he screwed up." Gibbs snorted. "Does he think someone planted it there? That makes no sense."

"And the note is definitely Pacci's handwriting," Tony said.

Gibbs noted the high-necked sweater Tony was wearing and frowned. If he didn't know the bruises were there, he'd never guess. That his agent was still so guarded bothered him for reasons he wasn't quite sure of. He had really hoped Ziva and Tony's relationship would help both of them open up. Even more so, he had hoped he could get Tony to open up more to him after the incident in the hospital. But Tony just acted as if it had never happened. _For someone who had such a terrible childhood, he sure is good at playing pretend._

"He seemed mad that we are even looking into the case," Ziva said. "He said there was nothing he could do with back when he got it. No evidence, no witnesses, no motive. No case."

"He wanted back on the case," McGee said, looking a little nervous.

"And you said?" Gibbs asked, bemused.

"That it would probably be better if he stayed away from you for a while," McGee said, drawing a grin from Tony.

"Well-played, Probie, well-played," Tony said.

"I didn't think we'd get anything out of Mason," Gibbs said. "Ziva, you and DiNozzo go interview Bell's banker. McGee and I are going to go over Watts' file on the Bell disappearance."

"On it, Boss," Tony said, grabbing his gear.

* * *

A few minutes later, Ziva was making record time getting to the bank while Tony cursed his decision to let her drive.

"You never let me drive," she said, seemingly reading his thoughts at the same time as dodging a double-parked truck.

"Thought I could catch a nap on the way?"

She took her eyes off the road for a split-second then swerved around a slow-moving car. "Did you not sleep well last night?"

"Slept like a baby," he said, not mentioning that his slumber had been aided by sleeping pills prescribed by Ducky. It was something the doctor had talked him into while he was recovering from his shoulder injury. Ducky said they would help him sleep when pain would have otherwise prevented it, and it would keep him from running himself into the ground as he had during the Bennett case. Of course, Ducky hadn't been specific about whether he meant physical or emotional pain, but Tony figured the wily doctor meant both.

The last few months had been strange for Tony. In the weeks he spent recovering from the injury, he had worked himself into a panic about his return to work, but the transition from home to desk duty to full duty had been surprisingly seamless. He guessed it was because no one talked about the things Tony had revealed during the Bennett case, and if he tried, he could pretend none of it had ever happened.

But then something would happen to remind him. Like McGee bringing up suicide cases yesterday or Gibbs' gentle question by the elevator. And he would be reminded that things were _not_ the same with the team. He wouldn't say things were worse, and often he thought the dynamic was better. It seemed they could all communicate without words at times, which was a major plus in their line of work. But then he would catch someone looking intensely at him, and he wouldn't be able to read their thoughts.

And all the self-doubt would come creeping back. All the self-loathing that he had single-handedly changed the team would threaten to consume him.

And then there was Ziva. She had said it best when they decided they shouldn't be together.

_It was the first time Tony had awoken screaming from some nightmare dredged from his childhood. The demons of his past had been brought on by a devil they had caught during their last case._

_As Tony looked around Ziva's bedroom, sweating and shaking and confused, his eyes lit upon her, curled in a chair in the corner, her eyes bright as she watched him._

"_You were talking in your sleep," she said, her unease at seeing her partner panicked and wild-eyed showing on her pretty features._

"_And now you know everything," Tony said simply, sliding out of bed and getting dressed. _

_Tears slipped down Ziva's cheeks and she started to apologize, but he stopped her. "Don't, Ziva. You didn't do it to me."_

"_We both… We are too damaged to be together, Tony," she said softly, but the truth of the statement was loud and clear. "When we are both good, we are … amazing. But if you—or I—am not, then …"_

"_I wish you weren't right," he said, standing at her door. He almost left, but he turned back. "You don't always have to be strong, Ziva. If you ever need me, I'll give you everything I can."_

_She smiled through her tears. "Dittle."_

_He smiled, too, but his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Ditto, Ziva. It's 'ditto.' "_

"Tony?"

He jumped a little. "We're here."

"We are," she said, watching him with an intensity he hadn't seen in her in a while.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She frowned. "I was about to ask you the same thing. You look like you have seen a ghost."

_I did, _he thought. _It was us. It was us if only outside forces hadn't made us who are we now. _

"I'm fine," he said, getting out of the car.

She sighed and followed him into the bank, where they learned the manager who processed Bell's withdrawal still worked there and was on duty.

"Mr. Fines, thank you for meeting with us," Ziva said after introductions were made and they were seated in Fines' office. She gave Tony a concerned look when his knee popped loudly upon sitting.

"College football," Tony shrugged when he noticed everyone else had heard it. "You know how it is."

Fines made a face. "Nah, I don't. Chess club."

Tony smiled. "To each his own, I guess."

Fines smiled, then frowned. "I'm not sure how I can help you, agents. I gave a statement years ago, and I certainly haven't remembered anything else in the meantime."

"New evidence has come to light, and we're trying to start fresh to see how it fits," Tony said. "What do you remember about Scott Bell?"

"He was scared," Fines said without hesitation. "I don't remember the amount except that it was a large sum of money, and he said it was an inheritance. I thought he should seem happy about the money. Or sad about the relative. But not scared."

"Did the agents tell you why they were asking about it?" Ziva asked.

"Agent Watts told me Bell hadn't shown up for work, and that he had a sensitive job so when they checked his bank records and saw the withdrawal, they came to me."

"You remember the agent's name?" Ziva asked with a raised eyebrow.

Fines nodded. "Oh, yes, she was very pretty. I'll remember your name, too, Agent David. May I ask what new evidence you have? Bell's story is kind of a legend around here, and we'd like to know where he disappeared to with all that money."

"We think he may have committed a murder before he skipped town," Ziva said.

Fines' eyes widened. "Oh, my. Well, that would make sense. Maybe he was afraid of getting caught before he could get out of town, and that's why he was so scared."

"And no one was with him?" Tony asked. "Did you see anyone waiting around the lobby that may have been accompanying him?"

"No," Fines said. "I told Agent Watts that, too. I don't remember anyone."

"If there is anything else," Ziva said, rising, "please let us know."

"That's all I can remember," he said apologetically. "I wish I could be more of a help."

"You have been a big help," Ziva said. "Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

Ziva and Tony stepped off the elevator and into half a phone conversation.

"I told you that's not necessary, Mrs…" Gibbs said, looking up at his team and rolling his eyes.

He stopped and listened. "I told you, it's not necessary. We have your case files, and we can call you if we need anything. There's no reason for you to fly across the country."

Tony nudged Ziva and whispered, "Have you ever heard him say that many words at once?"

"And so nicely," Ziva commented, leaning against her desk and watching Gibbs' frustration mount. She wondered if they should all take cover.

"Fine. We'll see you tonight then. I'm sending an agent to pick you up at the airport."

Gibbs listened some more, holding the phone slightly away from his ear. "I insist. Call back with your flight information and I'll have someone meet you at the gate."

Gibbs slammed the phone down hard enough to make agents in the adjacent pod jump. He looked at his team. "What's worse than dealing with a probie?"

"Well, um," McGee started.

"An ex-probie," Tony answered, making a disgusted noise and settling behind his desk.

"Damn woman wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. I am _not_ letting her stick her nose into this investigation," Gibbs roared. "McGee! You're picking her up tonight and not letting her out of your sight until this is over. Got it?"

"But, Boss," McGee protested. "Why me? Tony should do it. He's always saying how good he is with the ladies."

Tony glared at the younger agent. "You gotta learn sometime," he said darkly.

"No buts, McGee."

"Yes, boss," McGee said, glaring back at Tony.

Gibbs didn't miss the daggers flying between his agents and wondered what it was about. He hadn't missed McGee's subtle anger that Tony hadn't let him arrest Phil Bell for assault. Hell, Gibbs had wanted to make the two or so hour drive up to Lancaster and beat the crap out of the man himself, but he had a case to run. Choking someone was such a personal attack, but then, so was calling someone's missing son a killer. Whatever was going on between his agents, he wished they would sort it out. Maybe he didn't want them all opening up, he just wanted them all back to normal instead of tip-toeing around each other.

"What did the banker say?" Gibbs barked, the phone call obviously putting him in a worse mood than usual.

"Bell was scared," Ziva answered. "That was what made the biggest impression on the man. He could not add anything else."

"You'd be scared, too, if you had just killed someone and were trying to skip town," McGee said, still miffed that he was stuck with babysitting detail.

Tony scoffed at about the same time Ziva did. Tony said, "Hardly, McGee. Ziva, scared?"

Ziva gave Tony a dark look. She knew he was just teasing McGee, but her fears had been something she and Tony had talked about at length. She wondered why he would say something like that. She wondered if he had really slept as soundly as he claimed, given what she knew about his father and the bruises he was so skillfully hiding today.

Ziva continued to scrutinize Tony, but he had moved on and was already asking Gibbs, "Did you and McGeek find anything helpful in the Bell file?"

Gibbs frowned. "Watts may as well have quit _before_ this case for all the investigating she did. There are no interviews with neighbors. The only people she talked to were his co-workers here, his family and the banker. There aren't even cell phone records in here."

Gibbs threw the file down angrily. "She couldn't be bothered to get off her ass and interview neighbors, but now she's flying across the country because she thinks she may remember something helpful. Fat chance. Her sloppy 'investigation' and Mason's incompetent fumbling wouldn't have happened if Pacci had been alive. He wouldn't have let it."

"He was a good agent," Tony said softly.

Gibbs and Tony shared a look that made Ziva and McGee feel like outsiders. It was another blow to McGee's already wounded confidence. If he was honest with himself, he knew he wasn't mad about babysitting detail—he had seen from the file that Watts was kind of hot—but he was mad that he hadn't stopped Bell from attacking his partner. McGee had seen the anger in Bell's posture, but he had chosen to comfort a crying old woman instead of watching his partner's back. His old doubts about his prowess as a field agent came creeping back, but he stomped them down. He had been on Bell in an instant, and Tony said he was fine. _Yeah, but he could have a hatchet stuck in his skull like one of those silly Halloween masks and still insist he's fine._

"Gibbs. My office," came the director's voice from above.

"This day just keeps getting better," Gibbs said as he headed for the stairs.

The remaining team members exchanged looks. Tony hoped the director wasn't going to assign them an active case. He wanted this one closed before they had to divide their attention.

"Another case?" McGee asked, following Tony's thoughts.

"Better not be," Tony fairly growled.

"It might not be," Ziva said, a little surprised at Tony's angry response. She wondered if it was something about this case in particular or if it was something else that had affected his mood lately. Whatever it was, she didn't like seeing this dark intensity in him. "Usually Gibbs gets a phone call if we are getting a new case."

McGee nodded and smiled. "She's right. Maybe this is more a call to the principal's office for Gibbs," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Right," Tony said, crossing his arms and leaning against his desk. "And I'm the Easter bunny."

His teammates stared at him, both realizing how much they missed his usual happy joking, and both wondering what had made him so prickly.

Tony was oblivious to their scrutiny. He just stared at the director's closed door, wondering what was going on behind it.

* * *

Gibbs entered the office without knocking, as usual.

Vance looked up from a file. "Come on in," he said wryly.

Gibbs didn't speak. He just planted himself in front of Vance's desk and glared.

"Have a seat," Vance said, knowing Gibbs wouldn't. And he didn't. "I know your team is working on the Langworthy cold case. Good job finding the lead. And the link to Bell."

"Thank DiNozzo," Gibbs said shortly.

Vance nodded. "I'll do that. But first I need your team to assist Agent Henry's this evening. They're watching a kidnapper's ransom pickup, and I want your team there, too."

"Get someone else's team. Mine's busy," Gibbs said.

Vance gave him a long-suffering look. "Busy with a cold case. It can wait until tomorrow." There was a glint in Vance's eye, suddenly. "Don't you want to wait until Watts shows up, anyway?"

Gibbs fumed. "That woman—"

Vance cut him off. "I know. But she's a civilian now so you can't order her around. Let her sit in for a bit, see if she remembers anything, and then send her on her way when she doesn't."

Gibbs almost smiled at that, but he said, "Or we just ignore her. She won't be able to get through the gate if we don't authorize it."

"That may be true, but she's already called me." Vance smiled at the look on Gibbs' face. "I guess she remembers you. She sounds like someone who is used to getting her way, and I don't want her making noise with the press that we aren't doing everything we can to solve these cases."

Gibbs was silent, and Vance took it as resignation and said, "Help out Henry's team. To be frank, I'd rather your team were handling this kidnapping in its entirety, considering the girl's father is an extremely well-respected Commander."

"Fine," Gibbs said, giving in not to the flattery—even though he figured Vance meant it—but to the man himself. He was the director, after all. Gibbs' eyes held mischief when he said, "But I need someone to pick up Watts tonight. Perhaps you could do it yourself? Show her some real NCIS hospitality since you seem to like her so much."

"Not a chance, Gibbs," Vance said, waving his dismissal and shaking his head. Gibbs was pretty sure as he turned to head out that he saw a ghost of a smile on the man's face.

Descending the stairs, he saw no hint of a smile on his senior agent's face. Tony looked downright mutinous when his eyes locked onto Gibbs' and knew what was coming.

He explained the situation, ending with, "This case has waited years. It can wait another day."

To Gibbs' surprise, it was McGee and not Tony who objected. "But, Boss, I was going to see if I could find Bell's cell records. As old as they are, it's going to take time."

"It'll have to wait," Gibbs said. "We're spending a nice, long night watching and waiting."

* * *

The team joined Agent Henry's team and got caught up on the case. Gibbs was only half-listening, stealing surreptitious at Tony through most of the briefing. He wondered what was going on with Tony if it wasn't his breakup with Ziva that had been causing his recent withdrawn moods. He believed Ziva when she said it just hadn't worked out. It happened. Gibbs' thoughts turned to what he knew of Tony's troubled childhood, and he wondered if Bell's attack had affected the agent more than he was letting on. Gibbs kicked himself for not pressing further at the elevator the previous night.

"So Donovan, you'll be with McGee in the alley here," Henry was saying, pointing to a large illustration of the area surrounding the drop.

"No," Gibbs said, earning a glare from Henry. "My people stay together. DiNozzo and McGee can take the alley."

Henry looked annoyed but said, "Fine. You two in the alley. Gibbs, you and David can take the entrance to the park. I'll take Donovan with me at the other end of the park, and the last team is on communication and surveillance. We'll be leaving soon so get ready."

The group dispersed, and Gibbs grabbed Tony by the elbow and steered him toward the elevator. Tony didn't look surprised and Gibbs figured he'd noticed the looks during the meeting. It was part of the reason he was a damned good agent.

Gibbs hit the emergency stop button and faced his senior agent.

"What's going on, DiNozzo?" he asked, more harshly than he'd intended.

"We finally get a break in a years-old case and now we're off to play hide and go seek," he responded. He gave Gibbs a look. "Like _you're_ happy about this?"

"Thrilled," Gibbs said sarcastically. "But you know that's not what I mean. You've been all over the place since you got back, and I need to know that you're okay to do this job."

There was a long pause, and then Tony said, "The Bennett case really messed with my head." He did not meet Gibbs' eyes. "You of all people should know that. But I'm not about to start bawling my eyes out—again—if that's what you're asking."

"It's not just that," Gibbs stated. "You've been dealing with … that … your whole life. It wasn't just Bennett that suddenly brought it on. Is it you and Ziva?"

Tony's eyes snapped up. "We were seeing each other. It didn't work out. End of story."

"I didn't think it was that," Gibbs said, almost to himself. He hated that he couldn't read Tony. The man was so guarded, letting people see only what he wanted them to, and Gibbs found it infuriating that his gut rarely had anything to say when it came to Tony's moods.

Tony read Gibbs' silence as disappointment. He said, "I'm sorry I haven't been all here. I'll do better. But we both know I'm fine to do this job." A thought occurred to him, and he asked, his eyes wounded, "Did Ziva or McGee say something? Is that what this is about?"

Gibbs almost flinched at the pain in Tony's eyes. "No, of course not. They trust you implicitly." A pause. "And so do I."

That last part was spoken so softly that Tony thought he had imagined it. He was silent.

Gibbs sighed. "Why do you think I wanted McGee with you and not Donovan? He's a good agent, but you're better. McGee's not always the most adept in the field, and I don't want anyone watching his back but someone I trust."

"Thanks," Tony said softly. He was silent again, wondering randomly if anyone was waiting to use the elevator.

"So you're not going to tell me what's wrong," Gibbs said.

"My knee's been bothering me a bit," Tony said, catching Gibbs completely off guard. It was the last thing he'd expected Tony to say. _But maybe that's the point? _Gibbs thought. He knew his agent was extremely adept at playing with smoke and mirrors. He decided to let it drop—for now.

Tony watched Gibbs toss that around in his head. Tony asked, "So if apologizing is a sign of weakness, what's admitting one?"

Gibbs ignored that. "You should stop sleeping behind your desk." He eyed Tony's long frame. "And stop running so damned much. You're gonna be skinnier than Abby if you keep it up."

Tony smiled. "Sure, Boss. Can we go now?"

Gibbs didn't move to hit the button, and Tony sighed.

"You up for the op tonight?" Gibbs asked, studying his agent.

Tony just rolled his eyes. "You really expecting them to show?"

Gibbs actually smiled. He hit the emergency button and said, "Nah."


	6. Chapter 6

It was just past seven that evening, and McGee and Tony were bored out of their minds, waiting in the darkened alley. The December sun had long since set.

"She was hooker once," McGee said, passing the binoculars to Tony, who appreciatively eyed the leggy blonde accompanied by an elderly man in the park. "He swept her off her feet. Got her off the streets."

"Julia Roberts is a red-head," Tony said, "and you stole that from 'Pretty Woman.' Points for me."

"You didn't even try," McGee complained, referring to the little game they played to pass the time. Points went to whoever came up with the most outrageous scenario for the people they watched.

"You already lost," Tony said, handing the binoculars back and rubbing some warmth into his hands.

"Whatever," McGee said, though he wasn't really angry. Gibbs had pulled him aside before they left the office and told him what Tony had said about his knee. On one hand, it explained a lot, especially why Tony had been so crabby lately. On the other, McGee got the feeling Gibbs didn't quite believe it was the _only_ thing bothering the senior agent. McGee hadn't mentioned his theory about the lingering effects of the attack, and he had simply told Gibbs he'd watch Tony's back.

"It's almost time," McGee said. "They should be here soon, if they're even coming. I mean, they have to know we're watching. They'll probably come, watch the Commander make the drop, and call us back to tell us we'd better not be here next time, threatening the kid's life, of course."

Tony smiled in the darkness, proud of the younger agent. "You're probably right. You're getting good at this, Probie."

McGee flushed at the praise. "Actually, I think I saw that in a movie."

Tony grinned, glad that McGee had seemed to let go of his anger at not being allowed to arrest Bell for the assault. He almost told McGee the reason that he didn't want Bell arrested was because Tony would eventually have to testify about the attack and it wasn't something he wanted to do. Instead, he said, "It's been in a few that I can think of."

He was about to start rattling them all off when something caught his eye at the far end of the alley, away from the park. Tony tackled McGee, shoving him roughly against the wall and wincing when the young agent's head bounced off the bricks. The first bullet slammed into the dumpster that shielded them from the shooter a split-second later.

Tony eased a dazed McGee to the cold ground and crouched in front of him, shining the flashlight into his left eye as bullets flew over and into the dumpster. "McGee? Stay down, you've probably got a concussion."

"I'm fine," McGee said, his head aching. He wished Tony would get down. _Doesn't he notice all the bullets flying everywhere?_

"You just slurred that, partner, and I know you're not drunk," Tony said, checking McGee's other pupil. "Believe me, I know concussions. They're my specialty. Hey, you hear that?"

McGee listened but heard only a banging inside his head. He waited a second, then thought he heard a clicking sound above the roaring in his skull.

"He's empty," Tony said with a grin. "Hold tight, Tim."

DiNozzo sprinted down the alley after the shooter, gun drawn. He was running away from the park—and away from backup, he realized. He wondered if the other teams had been attacked and worried for a second about Gibbs and Ziva and Henry's agents. He kicked the thought to the back of his mind as he raced through the dark after the gunman.

He could hear the pounding of footsteps as the man ran through the practically deserted streets, staying mostly in alleys and service ways. _This location was part of the plan_, he thought grimly. _Should we have seen this? Maybe if it had been our damned case._

He pushed that thought aside, too, as he followed the sound of footsteps and heavy breathing. He closed the distance on the big man fairly easily, and with a final burst of the speed that had made him a standout in college, he lunged forward, tackling the man hard. Tony landed on top of the shooter, the man's empty gun skittering down the alley. DiNozzo was glad he had holstered his own weapon before leaping at the man, especially when the shooter stood, flinging Tony off like a child tossing aside a toy. DiNozzo landed on his back about a foot away, but he was on his feet in an instant.

He saw the man mentally running through his options of fight or flight and almost hoped the guy would run so he could shoot him. Instead, DiNozzo took advantage of the man's hesitation and slammed a fist into his jaw.

It was like hitting brick.

The big man's head snapped back, but he didn't waste a second in charging DiNozzo, putting a shoulder into his midsection and slamming the agent into the brick wall. As the air left his lungs in a whoosh, DiNozzo cursed himself for not calling for backup. He doubted McGee was in any shape to do it for him. He tried to deflect the fist that caught him in the mouth, but he couldn't move fast enough since he was still gasping for precious breath.

The man drew back again to punch him, but DiNozzo let his knees buckle and the man's fist connected with solid brick instead of soft flesh. DiNozzo scrambled backward, crablike, as the man howled in pain. Tony wasn't expecting the boot that caught him in the ribs or for the man to flee afterward.

An arm wrapped protectively around his damaged left side, he got up and ran in the direction the man had gone. He went to draw his weapon and realized it must have fallen from the unsnapped holster in the fight. He also realized he'd left the radio back with McGee. He fought down a flare of panic as it occurred to him that McGee was alone and vulnerable in the alley, but he continued to run down the alley. He no longer heard the footsteps or heavy breathing of the big man.

_What the hell? He's big and slow. There's no way he's gone already._

DiNozzo's thoughts were confirmed a second later when the man, who had hiding around the end of the building, stepped out of the shadows and swung a piece of pipe like a baseball bat at the agent.

The pipe hit him in the left knee, and DiNozzo crumpled to the ground, clutching the ruined knee with both hands. He looked up and locked eyes with the man who still stood above him, holding the pipe. Tony didn't blink, didn't turn away.

He just hoped it would be over quickly.


	7. Chapter 7

Tony heaved a sigh of relief when the big man dropped the pipe and took off.

_Not so easy to kill a man while looking him in the eye,_ Tony thought, gasping in pain and fighting off memories of lying on a football field, holding this same knee and thinking his life was over.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony heard Gibbs call his name from the end of the alley and heard the man running toward him. Gibbs dropped into a crouch beside his injured agent and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Suspect… that… way…" Tony panted out, fighting down nausea at the searing pain in his leg.

"That way," Gibbs barked at someone, and Tony was vaguely aware of people running past where he lay on the filthy, cold ground.

Gibbs turned his attention back to DiNozzo. For a second, Gibbs thought he'd passed out, but then Gibbs saw that his eyes were blinking rapidly. "Tony? We've got help on the way. Hold still, okay?"

"Not… going… anywhere…" Tony said, grinding the words through teeth clenched against unimaginable yet familiar pain.

"That the bad knee?" Gibbs asked gently.

"Uhhnnn," Tony groaned, nodding.

Gibbs watched his agent struggle against the pain and wondered where the hell the ambulance was. He'd called for one the second his flashlight had swept over blood on the ground in the adjacent alley. Looking at DiNozzo, he saw that the blood had been his and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped at the blood leaking from the corner of Tony's mouth.

"You hurt anywhere else?" Gibbs asked softly, running gentle hands over the agent's body, trying to feel for other wounds.

Tony shook his head. " 'M fine." He looked up at Gibbs suddenly, his eyes wild. "McGee? Boss… he's…"

"He's fine, Tony," Gibbs said. "Well, he's probably got a concussion, but otherwise he's good."

"My… fault."

"You saved his life. I think he'll get over it."

Gibbs looked up and saw medics headed their way. He wanted to yell at them to hurry the hell up, but he didn't. Instead, he laid a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere."

Tony nodded almost imperceptibly, and Gibbs ached for the young man.

"Pipe to the knee," Gibbs told the medics, and Tony nodded again in confirmation.

The younger, female medic knelt beside Tony's head while her partner crouched, trying to get a look at his leg.

"I need to move your hands," the second medic, a man who looked freakishly like Santa, said.

He took hold of Tony's wrist and gently moved his hand away. Tony made a strange sound, low in his throat, that Gibbs could only guess was him trying not to scream.

"Are you allergic to anything, Agent..." the female medic asked.

"It's ... Tony," he said, trying to smile up at the pretty young woman, but pain twisted his features. "And ... no."

"Good," she said, smiling brightly. "Hold tight." She drew a clear liquid into a syringe and jabbed it quickly into Tony's thigh. The pain was nothing compared with the agony that was his knee.

"Demerol," she said. "That should kick in quickly."

Tony nodded, unable to speak as the Santa-lookalike put both hands on the sides of his knee and nodded at the woman, who took hold of his shoulders. She rolled Tony onto his back while the man straightened his injured leg. Tony couldn't help the sharp cry of pain that escaped his lips, and he felt Gibbs' hand tighten on his shoulder.

Tony's eyes rolled back in his head as bolts of pain shot through his leg, and he thought about giving in to the agony and letting himself pass out. But he opened his eyes again.

"Are you hurting anywhere else?" the Santa-medic asked.

Tony shook his head, closing his eyes tightly as a wave of nausea rolled through him. His face felt all tingly suddenly.

"Deep breaths," the female medic said, putting a hand on his arm. "It's the Demerol, and it'll pass. Just breathe."

Tony took as deep a breath as he could considering the pain in his bruised ribs. The tingly feeling was gone by the time the medics had loaded him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Tony felt Gibbs' hand again. This time it rested on his forearm, right over the scars he still bore from Amie Bennett's fingernails. He shuddered at the memory of her falling.

Santa-medic mistook his shiver for coldness and said, "Sorry, Tony. This isn't going to make you any warmer."

Tony looked up at the scissors in his hand and said, "Hey! I'm not dying."

"We need to make sure you don't have any other injuries."

"I'm fine," Tony protested, his eyes darting to Gibbs.

Gibbs saw the look and frowned. "I doubt it. Let them do their jobs, DiNozzo."

"I like this sweater," Tony mumbled, his eyes closing again.

"I doubt the blood will come out of it anyway," the female medic said cheerily as she took the scissors from her partner and cut the garment to shreds.

Tony hadn't even noticed the bloodstain. He wiped a hand across his mouth and stared at the blood like it was radioactive. "Freakin' huge guy."

Gibbs cracked a smile, glad that Tony's pain seemed to have eased. Then he saw the bruises staining his agent's side.

"Hell, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, giving the young man an annoyed but concerned look.

"Punched or kicked?" the woman asked, gently prodding his side.

"Kicked," Santa said, leaning closer. "You can see the edge of his bootprint here."

Tony yelped in pain as the medic's hands found a tender spot. He glared at Santa-medic.

"Sorry," the older man said. "But it is kind of cool-looking."

Gibbs glared.

"I mean, it's medically interesting?" the older medic said, and his partner rolled her eyes.

Tony just closed his eyes and marveled at the wonders of modern medicine. His knee was still throbbing, but it was nothing like the white-hot pain he had felt earlier.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Tony was whisked away for treatment, and Gibbs went to find Ziva to ask her how McGee was. As he stalked through the emergency waiting room, he wondered how Agent Henry was doing. From what Gibbs could see from across the park, Henry had taken at least one bullet to the shoulder when the gunman had popped up behind them shortly after the Commander made the drop. Fortunately, the distraught father had been waiting safely in the van and hadn't been injured.

It was Ziva's impeccable instincts that had saved them. Gibbs had heard the man's approach, but by the time he had turned around and pulled his weapon, Ziva had already put a round through the gun-toting man's head.

Gibbs marveled at the criminals' audacity. Did they really think three shooters could take out eight highly trained federal agents? The shooters hadn't even recognized the communications van for what it was and those agents had not been attacked. Those agents had followed Gibbs into the alley after hearing the gunfire there, and Gibbs knew from radio chatter on the way to the hospital that they had apprehended the man who attacked Tony not far from the alley.

_Three injured agents; one dead suspect, one captured and one missing; and one still-missing little girl. _Gibbs felt sick as realized that the child was still out there. He wondered if the missing suspect would go to her or leave the poor girl to die. If she wasn't already dead. Gibbs rubbed a hand over his face and wondered if things would have turned out differently if it had been their case.

Gibbs almost ran smack into Director Vance as he turned a corner, still looking for Ziva or McGee.

Vance gave him a look and Gibbs thought back to the director's earlier statement about wanting his team on this case.

"They found the girl," Vance said, sharing Gibbs' distaste for small talk.

"Alive?" Gibbs asked, even though he knew it was doubtful.

He was surprised when Vance nodded. "Found her in a car a few blocks away. Cold, but otherwise okay. At least physically. Her parents are with her now."

"The missing shooter?"

"Still missing," Vance said shortly and with anger. "Henry's injuries are relatively minor. How are your people?"

"Scumbag wrecked Tony's knee with a pipe. McGee probably has a concussion. I'm trying to find him now."

"Room E5," Vance said. "Officer David is with him."

Gibbs nodded his thanks and headed off toward the double doors that led into the emergency treatment area. A nurse looked up in surprise as he pushed open the doors labeled "No Admittance" and she said, "Sir, you can't go back there!"

"Call security then," Gibbs said, flashing his badge. "I bet my badge's bigger than his."

The nurse just frowned and shook her head, not bothering to reach for the phone.

* * *

Gibbs and Ziva joined Agent Donovan and the rest of Henry's team in the search for the missing suspect, who was found at Dulles airport because he was stupidly using his own cell phone in the international flights waiting area.

_Real geniuses, these guys, _Gibbs thought as he drove back to the hospital after stopping for an extra-large cup of coffee. He had ordered Ziva to go home and get some rest since there was nothing for them to do at the hospital. McGee indeed had a concussion and was being kept overnight, and Tony was also being kept since his knee had been too swollen to get an accurate MRI right away. He was fortunate that no bones had been broken, and it had taken only a few stitches to close the wound where his teeth had cut into the soft tissue on the inside of his lip.

Gibbs went to the information desk and asked where Tony's room was.

The young woman looked up at him. "Agent DiNozzo signed himself out AMA about an hour ago."

Anger pushed away Gibbs' tiredness, and he fought not to yell at the girl. "What brilliant damned doctor allowed that?" he asked through clenched teeth.

To her credit, the woman didn't shrink from Gibbs' rage. It may have had something to do with the large desk between her and the irate agent, though. "Let me pull up the paperwork," she said.

"Never mind," Gibbs snapped. He was tired and doubted berating the dumb doctor would make him feel any better. "Timothy McGee? Or is he gone, too?"

She smiled, ignoring his sarcasm. "Room 516."

Gibbs didn't bother to thank her. He just headed for the elevator, thinking about how pissed he was at Tony and wondering how he had gotten home. He wondered if Abby or Ducky had been an accomplice since both had arrived just as he was leaving to go chase down the suspect.

His thoughts were cut short as he entered the darkened room and found McGee sound asleep. His face looked pale in the soft moonlight filtering through the window. Gibbs stepped farther into the room and grinned in spite of himself.

Tony, dressed in borrowed scrubs, was sitting in one chair with his leg propped up in front of him on another. "Hey, Boss," he said softly. "And you can't yell at me. Not without waking McHeadInjury over there."

Gibbs just stared at his stubborn agent, unable to dredge the anger he had felt earlier.

"I'd offer you a seat, but…" Tony said, gesturing to the leg that was encased in a bulky brace.

Gibbs grabbed a chair that sat beside the other bed in the double room and sat next to Tony, both facing an oblivious McGee.

"This is like watching a really boring movie," Tony said, his voice still low.

When Gibbs didn't speak, Tony glanced over guiltily. "Abby and Ducky couldn't stay," he said by way of explanation. "And the staff wouldn't let me hang out in here. Said they couldn't monitor me here."

"So you signed yourself out AMA?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow at Tony.

"Just because I signed myself out didn't mean I was leaving."

Gibbs smiled in the semi-darkness. "You're something else, DiNozzo."

Tony lifted a shoulder and winced at the pain in his bruised ribs. "McGee's nurse is way hotter, anyway. And she promised not to rat me out."

Gibbs didn't miss the wince or the whisper of pain in Tony's voice. "She should. You're not doing yourself any favors sitting here like this." He paused, then asked softly, "Are you taking anything for the pain? You're not your usual loopy self."

Tony picked up a prescription bottle from the tray table beside him and rattled it lightly. "I've never had this stuff before. Can't pronounce it, either. But it doesn't seem to be making me feel quite so out there."

"Is it working?"

Tony shrugged again. "Takes the edge off. It's better than feeling like my brain has been taken over by aliens."

Gibbs watched his agent lean his head back and close his eyes. Gibbs read only subtle hints of discomfort in his features, and a thought suddenly occurred to him.

"It's mostly for show," Gibbs said, unaware that he had spoken until he saw Tony's eyes snap open at the soft words.

_Crap, _Tony thought._ Does he have to be so damned perceptive?_

Tony sighed. "You got me," he said simply, too tired to think of a way out of it.

Gibbs shook his head, angry with himself that he hadn't seen it sooner. "You fake the loopiness so we won't make you take them."

"Fake it? Um, no. Play it up… Well, yeah."

Tony was spared further discussion by the arrival of McGee's hot nurse.

"Allison," Tony greeted her with a smile.

"You've multiplied," she said with a wry smile, eyeing Gibbs.

"He's not so bad," Tony said. "As long as he's not interrogating you."

She laughed softly at that and waved as Gibbs got up to give McGee some privacy while she did his concussion check. Tony stayed silent and doubted McGee even noticed he was there. After she finished asking him questions—to which he knew all the answers—she watched him for a few minutes, noting on his chart that he went back to sleep almost immediately.

Allison set the chart down and went to Tony. She sat in the chair vacated by Gibbs. "And how are you feeling?"

"I'm good," he said, looking into her pretty blue eyes and trying not to think of Jeanne.

"Comfortable?" she asked.

"Enough," he answered, biting his lip when she put her hand on the brace.

"This is looser than last time I came in. The swelling has gone down so you should probably be good for that MRI by morning. Of course, it'd be better if you were in bed."

"I'm staying right here," he said firmly. "But thank you."

She got up and left, sharing a look with Gibbs as he came back into the room. Gibbs took a seat and the agents sat in silence.

"You find my gun?" Tony asked suddenly. "In the alley?"

"Yeah, you'll get it back," Gibbs said, studying Tony's profile in the muted light. "And don't you dare apologize for anything that happened tonight, DiNozzo. Suspect's in custody, and you and McGee are still breathing. I know you did everything you could."

Tony mulled his boss's words for a long moment. When he spoke, it was quietly and oddly devoid of emotion. "He could have killed me."

Gibbs knew that. He had seen the man looking down at Tony, holding the pipe. Gibbs shuddered—not at the memory of the fear that had pierced him to his core as he stood in alley, praying he wasn't about to watch another agent die—but at the way his agent had spoken those words.

"He didn't," Gibbs said simply, trying to keep his rising concern out of his voice. He thought back to DiNozzo's nonchalance at being attacked in Lancaster. Tony's lack of concern for his own life was scaring the usually unshakable lead agent.

"I don't think he could," Tony mused. "I made sure I held his eyes. It's one thing to shoot into an alley at people you can barely see, but I don't think he could do it face to face. These guys weren't pros."

Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief at Tony's words. _He didn't give up. He still wants to be alive. _

_Of course he does, _Gibbs chastised himself. _He's got issues, but he's not suicidal. _

"You should go home, Boss," Tony said, breaking into Gibbs' thoughts. "Someone needs to be on their toes to deal with Watts in the morning."

Gibbs debated, knowing his senior agent was right. "You need anything before I go?"

"Nah, I'm fine."

Gibbs left, thinking, _Only you could sit there, bruised, brooding and injured, and think that._


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Gibbs sat in the squad room with Ziva, going over the Bell disappearance file and awaiting Watts' arrival. Gibbs wished she'd just decide not to come, but he knew that wasn't going to happen.

The elevator dinged and Gibbs steeled himself to face the annoying, incompetent woman. He was caught entirely by surprise when a pale-faced McGee and a hobbling-on-crutches Tony stepped out of the car.

Tony grinned even though his knee was throbbing. "You didn't think we'd leave you two all alone with her, did you?"

Ziva stood and rushed to McGee's side, putting a supportive hand under his elbow and steering him to his desk. "Sit down before you fall down," she said, looking into his slightly unfocused eyes.

Gibbs watched Tony hobble to his desk and lean the crutches against the partition. Gibbs commandeered a chair from another pod and pushed it in front of Tony.

"Thanks, Boss," Tony said, still smiling—until he used both hands to lift his braced leg onto the chair. He grimaced, but said, "Ugh. Nothing like pain to make you feel really _alive._"

Gibbs couldn't tell if it was drugs talking or Tony trying to keep up the façade in front of his teammates, but he was glad that he was smiling.

"Did they find what is wrong with your knee?" Ziva asked, concern in her deep brown eyes as she made her way back to her desk.

"Mmmm," Tony nodded, looking annoyed. Ziva knew the annoyance was not directed at her. "Not good. Shredded ligaments, torn meniscus." He paused. "Need surgery to fix it all," he said quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it.

Gibbs noticed his tone. "Then why are you here and not there?"

"No way in hell I'm letting anyone near this knee but the doctor who did my last surgery. But he's in Europe on vacation for another week, the lucky bastard."

"Why him?" Ziva asked.

Tony gave her a look that said he was tired of talking about it. "The first doctor I saw back then told me I'd always have a limp. Then I got a second opinion. And do I have a limp, Ziva?"

She eyed the crutches behind him and raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. "Well, did I yesterday?"

She smiled. "I see your point."

Gibbs listened to the banter, but his eyes were on McGee, who didn't look so good. He was pale and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. He looked green.

"McGee?" Gibbs tried, and mostly failed, to control his bark. "Should you be here?"

The young agent looked over at his boss, and Gibbs noticed how slowly McGee turned his head.

"I'm good, Boss."

"You've been hanging out with DiNozzo too much," Gibbs said, but he decided to let it go.

"Besides," McGee said, a little strength returning to his voice, "I need to see if I can find Bell's cell records. Like I said, it's going to take some time since they're so old."

McGee began typing away, only slightly less furiously than normal, Gibbs noted. He looked at Tony, who was on the phone with someone. Ziva appeared to be looking through police records of some kind, and Gibbs felt a flash of pride in his team. For all their bickering and deeply nuanced relationships, they were nothing if not dedicated. Gibbs thought about Cpl. Langworthy and thought the Marine would be proud of this team, too, working so hard to catch his killer.

"Boss, I got something," Tony said, hanging up the phone. "Or maybe nothing. I'm not really sure."

"And?" Gibbs asked, surprised to find himself toning down his response. No need to yell and aggravate McGee's headache. Those cell records could prove very useful, if they could be found.

"I remembered that right around the time Bell ran off, Abby had told me that some drugs had gone missing from the evidence locker. And it wasn't the first time."

"But it was the last time?" Gibbs asked, following Tony's thoughts.

"Yeah," DiNozzo nodded, absently rubbing his aching leg. "There was a pattern of missing drug evidence that stopped after Bell's disappearance. No one was ever caught in the investigation that followed."

"Maybe Bell was taking the drug evidence and selling it," Ziva posited. "Langworthy could either have caught him or been a buyer in a deal gone bad."

"There were no drugs on Langworthy's tox screen," Gibbs said. "That would seem to support the former theory."

"Or they were in on it together and it went bad," Tony said. "Not all dealers are users."

"They could have met when Bell took Langworthy's DNA in that rape case. Perhaps they made a connection," Ziva said.

"I'd put my money on that," a voice said from near the elevator. The team turned and watched ex-Special Agent Taryn Watts make her way over to them.

Gibbs made terse introductions while Tony looked the woman over. She was dressed expensively, her clothing well-made and well-tailored to her shapely body. She was good-looking for sure, but he found himself not attracted to her in the least. _Incompetence sure is a turn-off,_ he thought. _And she's married with a kid. I wonder why she didn't take his last name? _

Tony saw her eye his obviously injured leg, but he just said, "And why would you bet on that theory?"

"I was there when Bell did the corporal's DNA swab for the rape case," she said, setting her Prada bag on McGee's desk.

McGee barely looked up then or during the introductions since he was still madly typing away.

"I got the feeling they already knew each other," the tall, slender brunette continued.

"And why was that?" Gibbs asked.

Watts looked surprised at the question. She could tell from the way Gibbs looked at her that he didn't like her. Apparently her word wasn't going to be good enough. She just hoped she wouldn't have to explain her every single thought to the man. "Because," she said slowly, "Bell made some crude comment about DNA, and Langworthy laughed and gave him this buddy-buddy punch on the arm."

Gibbs just nodded and turned to McGee, who flinched when a phone buzzed loudly in Watts' bag. The woman fished the phone from the bag, ignoring the dirty look Gibbs gave her as he asked, "How likely is it that you'll be able to get those records?"

McGee looked a bit disheartened, but he said, "I found the carrier Bell used, and that's a good start. It's a smaller, regional carrier so they may be able to hold on to more records than a national carrier like Verizon, which handles a thousand times the amount of accounts."

"But?" Gibbs asked, trying to figure out whether McGee's tone was beleaguered by the difficulty of the search or pained because of his concussion.

"But there's something weird here," McGee said, rubbing his eyes with his palms to try to clear the massive headache. He stopped when he saw the guilty look on Tony's face. He knew he needed to thank the agent for saving his life, but it could wait. The case couldn't.

"McGee?" Gibbs prompted—gently, it seemed to McGee and he realized he had spaced out.

"Sorry, Boss. It's weird because the carrier went out of business, but I think I can still get access to their records. Someone is keeping them up, for some reason, which I'm trying to find out now so I'll know if the records are complete and if it's even worth searching."

Gibbs nodded, glad that McGee had cut the geek-speak. He looked over at Watts and heard her hang up the phone with an "I love you, too, sweetie."

"Sorry," she said, her cheeks reddened. "My husband doesn't like that I used to be an agent, and he doesn't want me doing anything dangerous. He works for a large computer firm and the only danger he faces is getting carpal tunnel."

Gibbs nodded again, not caring what the woman's husband thought or did. He saw the same annoyance on Tony's face at the woman's rambling. Gibbs saw Tony roll his eyes when Watts set her phone on his desk and propped a shapely hip there, too. To his credit, Tony didn't even pay attention to her. He was too busy watching McGee intently and feeling guilty about giving the kid a concussion.

"So?" Gibbs asked, giving Watts his best Marine stare.

The woman looked slightly uncomfortable, unsure what the man wanted from her.

"So do you remember anything else that might help us?" Ziva asked, realizing it was going to be a long day.

"Oh, well," Watts started, "Agent Mason took the lead on Langworthy so I don't know much about that. But I did interview Bell's family and—"

"So did we," Gibbs said. "What was your feel on the brothers? Were both users or was it just Ricky?"

"Definitely both," she said.

"The parents wouldn't agree with you," Tony said, fighting the urge to play with the neck of his sweater, this one a deep crimson red. He had noticed while shaving that morning that the bruises had reached their peak in color and stood out in stark relief against his pale-ish skin.

"I know," she said slowly. "But they're parents. No one wants to think badly of one child, let alone both. I mean, I could never imagine my little Lizzie doing drugs."

"Do you remember that evidence was going missing from the locker right around the time Bell disappeared?" Ziva asked.

"Oh, of course," Watts nodded enthusiastically. "Did they ever find out who did it? They hadn't by the time I left, but that was so shortly after Pacci was killed." She looked at the floor, a sad look on her face.

"No," Ziva answered. "We believe Bell may have been stealing the drugs to sell on the street."

"And Langworthy was his partner in crime," Watts said, thinking back to what they had been discussing when she arrived. She pushed off from Tony's desk and leaned on the partition beside Ziva's desk. She smiled and said, "My legs are so cramped from the plane ride. It took forever, it seemed."

"Boss," McGee said suddenly. "This is interesting. I found the reason why the carrier's records are still up. Apparently the records are part of lawsuit, the trial for which is ongoing. The records should be complete so I should be able to find Bell's old calls."

Gibbs nodded approvingly while Watts looked shocked. "Wow. That is amazing, Agent McGee." She shook her head. "You must be good."

McGee gave her an awkward little nod, and Tony covered a grin with his hand.

Watts continued, "But then, my husband does all kinds of things with computers that are unimaginable to me, but I never would have thought you could call up something so old."

"Well," McGee said, annoyed at her rambling. Her voice was bothering his headache. "I still have to find his actual records. It's not like I can Google his name and come up with them."

"And I thought you could Google anything these days," Tony said, drawing a grin from Ziva and a glare from Gibbs.

"You know," Watts said suddenly, "I never could figure out the money angle and where that fit in. Have you gotten anywhere on that?"

Gibbs bit back a remark that she hadn't gotten anywhere with anything. He said, "Going theory is it financed his escape. We don't think he was killed for it."

"Family doesn't seem to have it," Tony said. "He had no girlfriends at the time."

"There's another reason I don't think he was killed for the money," Gibbs said.

Ziva was quiet, as was Watts.

Tony said, "No body. If he was killed for the money, then the killer did a damned good job hiding the remains."

Gibbs nodded, proud of his agent for following his thinking. He looked at McGee's pale face and saw Tony trying to open a pill bottle without making noise. He said, "Grab some lunch. I'm going to see Ducky and ask if he knows of any cases where identification of a body was impossible or in question."

The team, plus Watts and minus Gibbs, ate the squad room. Tony wanted to eat quickly and get back to work, but Watts obviously wanted to reminisce. He almost cut her off, but she seemed to want to talk about Pacci so he let her and even joined in at times. He thought of Kate and realized that maybe they shouldn't be so hard on her. She had lost her boss, her mentor—and a friend, it seemed.

They were all laughing over Tony's impression of Pacci lining up sheets of paper perfectly to staple them all together so none of the edges were even slightly misaligned when Watts' cell rang on Tony's desk.

Watts was sitting at Gibbs' desk so Tony caught her eye and tossed the phone.

"Local number," Tony said as she caught the phone deftly.

Watts checked the caller ID and answered, "Hey sweetie! Oh, no, I'm sorry baby. Mommy can't come home yet. I know, love, but I'm busy here in Washington. Remember how we put the map on the fridge? You see Washington? Good, sweetie. That's where I am right now, but I'll be home soon. Okay, I love you, too. Bye-bye!"

Watts blushed as she saw everyone watching her. "I'm sorry about that."

"Do not be sorry," Ziva said. "She sounds adorable."

Watts caught the question in Tony's eyes and said, "My husband refuses to get a new cell number local to our home. He's so lazy about things like that. Drives our friends nuts. And thank you, Ziva. She is adorable."

"How old is she?" Tony asked, trying to be polite.

"Three. A lovely age," Watts said, "when she's not coloring on the walls."

Gibbs returned in time to hear Watts' last statement, and her simple words stabbed a knife of pain through his heart. He shook his head, clearing away the memories, and said, "Nothing. All the John Does were the wrong heights, weights, ages, ethnicities, etc."

The rest of the afternoon was spent tossing ideas back and forth, everyone trying desperately to find the one new angle that would break the case. McGee didn't join in, though; he was too busy trying to find the cell records that could open up a world of new leads. He also was trying not to puke his guts out. His head still spun crazily any time he looked away from the screen in front of him, and what little of his lunch he had managed to get down threatened to come back up every five minutes or so. He closed his eyes, breathing through the latest bout of nausea and wondering how Tony always managed to seem so _normal_ after a concussion, if this was what one actually felt like. McGee wanted to go home and sleep for days.

"Probie."

McGee opened his eyes and realized Tony was standing beside him and everyone was looking at him with concern. McGee knew he must be in bad shape if Tony had managed to crutch over to him without his hearing a thing.

"I'm okay, Tony," McGee said, trying to focus on the swimming lines of data in front of him. He glanced at his watch. 5 p.m. _How the hell did _that _happen?_

Tony smiled and said softly, "That's my line, McGee, and you're not fine. I called Abby, and she's going to take you home once you show me how to look for what we're looking for."

McGee took in the lines of pain around his partner's mouth and the whiteness of his knuckles on the crutches. "No. I'm fine."

Ziva hadn't missed the pain in Tony's voice either. She said, "I think both of you should go home." She looked at Gibbs, who nodded. "I will continue searching, and we can call you if I find something."

McGee sighed while Tony gave Ziva a mutinous look. McGee said, "Well, at this point, I'm really just scrolling and looking for a name and number."

Ziva smiled brightly, giving Tony a _Get over it_ look. "Good."

Tony heard the elevator ding and moved away from McGee for his own safety. Abby-hugs and crutches didn't mix well, he'd learned long ago. The scientist barely acknowledged Watts as she swept in the room and straight over to McGee. She hugged him with a gentleness Tony didn't think possible. He smiled at her. "Take good care of him, Abbs."

"Of course," she said, eyeing the brace on Tony's leg. "Don't forget to take care of yourself, too."

Abby gathered McGee's things as Tony gathered his own, wondering how he was going to get home.

"Watts," Gibbs said. "You're leaving, too. There's nothing for you do here."

The woman bristled.

Ziva said, "But thank you for your help. We appreciate it."

Watts smiled tightly. "Of course." She turned to Tony, her smile brightening. "Agent DiNozzo? Would you like me to drop you off at home? I doubt you can drive in your condition, and I've got nothing to do tonight."

Gibbs didn't miss her pointed look when she said that. He didn't care though; he was glad that once she got in the elevator, he'd be rid of her and never see her again. He was sure she would insist on coming back the next day if the cell records didn't pan out, but Gibbs had no intentions on letting that happen. He had played her and Vance's game, but now it was game over.

Gibbs was glad when DiNozzo reluctantly agreed to the ride home. First, it got rid of Watts; and second, he would be free to go have a chat with the director about Watts.

Ziva took McGee's seat and continued his search while Abby helped the shaky agent to the elevator.

"Every hour, Abbs," Tony called, and she gave him a thumbs-up. He turned to Gibbs. "Call me if you get anything?"

"Call me if you need anything?" Gibbs returned, enjoying the easy understanding he had with his senior agent.

Gibbs watched Watts walk slowly beside Tony to the elevator, feeling an odd sense of pride that Tony had ignored the married woman's flirting. But if he was honest with himself, it wasn't all that odd, considering his almost father/son relationship with the agent.

"Ziva, you going to be okay with those?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure, Gibbs. I will do fine."

"I'm going for coffee. Can I get you anything?"

Ziva recognized the disguised "thank you" she was receiving for taking over the search and she smiled. "No thank you."


	9. Chapter 9

Tony leaned his head against the cool metal side of the elevator car and longed to be home. He wanted nothing more than to prop up his throbbing knee, crack a beer to (unwisely, he knew) down a painkiller and catch a TV movie. Or sleep. _Mmmmm, sleep._

He made his way slowly to Watts' rental car, a brand-new Mustang. "Upgraded, huh?"

She smiled. "My husband told me to go nuts."

He settled himself completely ungracefully into the low car and thought about his couch again.

Both were quiet as they headed out of the Navy Yard. Tony was surprised to hear a sniffle as they cleared the main gate. He looked over and saw tears streaming down Watts' pretty face.

"Hey," he said softly. "What is it?"

She sniffled again and looked embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. I just … being here again … and last time I was here … and Pacci."

Her voice broke when she said the agent's name, and Tony felt another tug of sympathy for her. "I'm so sorry, Taryn. I don't know what he was like as a boss, but he was a great agent."

"He didn't like me," she said, smiling ruefully and sniffling and managing to pay attention to the traffic all at the same time.

"Why do you say that?" Tony asked gently. He wondered if she knew about Pacci's doubts about her abilities.

"I don't know why, but sometimes you just know. Like Gibbs. He hates me."

Tony smiled at that, watching the sun set over Washington and thinking the view would be beautiful except for the nasty wad of traffic in front of them. "Gibbs takes some serious getting used to. Maybe Pacci was like that, too." Tony wasn't sure why he said that. Maybe it was thoughts of Pacci's bloody body and memories of losing Kate that made him offer her that hope.

"No," she shook her head. "You're just being kind. Pacci was... was…"

She started to cry again. Tony looked at her, looked at the snarled traffic, and made a decision. His knee was killing him, but he knew physical pain was nothing compared with the emotional hell Watts had found herself in—again. "What hotel are you at?"

She looked up sharply at his words, and he held up his hands. "Whoa, no. I know you're married. I just thought maybe since I knew Pacci, and you're obviously upset, maybe we could talk. It's not like we're going anywhere in this traffic anyway."

She glanced quickly at the brace on his leg. "I can't ask you to do that."

He smiled. "You didn't. I offered."

"You're so very kind, Agent DiNozzo," she said, checking her mirror and changing lanes.

"It's Tony, please."

"Well, you're very kind, Tony."

* * *

Abby managed to get McGee into the car, but she was starting to worry if she would be able to get him up to his apartment alone. The poor guy was alternating between light sleep and slightly slurred babbling about his exhausting search.

"I mean, there were just so many _words,_" McGee said, his aching head resting against the cool window. "So many words. And I had to read them all."

Abby smiled sympathetically. "Oh, McGee. What am I going to do with you?"

"Wake me up every hour," McGee answered in all seriousness. "Unless you want me to fall into a coma and die."

Abby chuckled. "If I wanted you dead, McGee, there are so many better ways to do it."

She laughed again as he very slowly, very intently turned to see if she was joking. Happy that she was, he said again, "There were just so many damned _words._"

* * *

Ziva scrolled though the seemingly endless records and just felt more and more sorry for McGee. She did not have a concussion, but her head was starting to ache from going through all the lines of data. She heard the door to the director's office open and close, and she judged by the lack of a slam that Gibbs had gotten his way.

The lead agent came down the stairs and silently thanked Ziva again for offering to go through the records.

"That went well?" Ziva asked, taking the chance to look away from the screen.

"She's done," Gibbs answered simply, watching Ziva rub her eyes and look back at the screen. "Not that she did anything anyway."

Ziva nodded, continuing her reading.

"You gonna do that all night?" Gibbs asked gruffly.

Ziva's eyes didn't leave the screen. "If that is what it takes."

Gibbs gave her a rare smile, and though her eyes never left the screen, she saw it and flushed with pleasure. It was as good as a compliment coming from Gibbs.

Gibbs settled behind his desk to do some paperwork, but before he picked up the first file, Ziva said, "Gibbs. I have it."

The lead agent was by her side in an instant, looking at the screen. Ziva tapped a few keys and Bell's last cell phone records began printing. "Nice work, Ziva."

Ziva's smile grew wider and her headache disappeared. She just hoped there was something useful in the records. Judging by Gibbs' face as he scanned the printed sheet, they had something. Ziva was surprised to note that Gibbs actually looked perplexed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Last thirty calls were all to the same number," Gibbs said, looking up and meeting Ziva's dark eyes. "They were all 911 calls."

* * *

Abby parked outside McGee's building and wondered when he was going to move someplace nicer. Maybe she'd offer to take him apartment hunting once he was feeling better. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it, with his latest book doing so well, and he needed someplace safer, someplace less … dark.

Abby didn't realize she had spoken out loud until McGee said, "Abby, you of all people shouldn't complain about darkness."

She would have punched him if she didn't think it would knock him out. She got out of the car and made her way around to his side. As soon as he was upright, though, he clamped a hand over his mouth and ran to the alley, throwing up just as he stepped from the sidewalk into the garbage-littered space between buildings.

Abby patted his arm. "Oh, McGee!" He finally stopped retching and Abby looped an arm around his waist. "Maybe we should get you back to the hospital."

"No, Abbs," McGee protested weakly. "I just stood up too fast."

Abby looked hard at her friend and shook her head. "No way, McGee. No way you're dying on my watch. Gibb would kill me."

She all but shoved him back in the car. She started to close the door, but he said, "Will you at least run my gun upstairs? It's a pain in the ass trying to keep track of it in a hospital. And could you grab me some clothes? I hate hospital gowns."

Abby nodded, noticing the strain those few sentences had caused. McGee looked terrible. She turned and bounded into the building, hurrying so McGee didn't pass out before she could return.

* * *

Tony sat in a comfortable armchair in Watts' upscale hotel room. His leg was propped up on an ottoman, and he accepted the glass of water Watts offered and popped a painkiller. He leaned his head back into the plush chair and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Watts said. "I shouldn't have made you come up here. You're obviously in pain."

Tony looked at her, watching her remove a clip and shake out her long brown hair. "So are you. I couldn't just leave, knowing you have nothing to do tonight but sit here and think." His voice dropped and he looked away. "After you left, we lost an agent from our team. Her name was Kate."

"Oh my god, Tony. I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"She was shot in the head by a sniper." The images of Pacci in the elevator that Tony had been trying to keep at bay were suddenly replaced by Kate, her lifeless eyes staring up at the blue sky that she could no longer see.

"You were there?" Watts asked gently.

"Oh, yeah," Tony made a disgusted noise. "I was there."

"But if it was sniper, there was nothing you could do. It wasn't your fault."

"Nope, it wasn't," Tony said simply, wondering how they had gotten to talking about him. "But it didn't mean that I didn't spend twenty minutes scrubbing my face even after I knew all of her blood was gone. I rubbed my hands raw trying to get it off."

"It's still there in your dreams," she said. It was not a question.

He looked up. "Did you have to kill? In the field?"

She didn't answer right away. She just stood at the mini-bar and poured a drink. She drained the glass in one long draw and poured another. "Yeah," she answered finally. She held up her glass. "You want one?"

Tony debated, knowing booze and pills were never a good mixture. But the thoughts of Kate were particularly strong so he nodded and she poured.

"You want to talk about it?" Tony asked, accepting the drink and taking a small sip. He winced when the alcohol hit the stitches in his mouth. It stung like crazy, but he decided he didn't care. It wasn't often that he could have a real talk with someone in his line of work who would understand _and _be on a plane to head back across the country in the morning.

"You first?" she asked, and he figured she was working up the liquid courage to talk about it.

Tony started to talk, surprised not only by his openness but also by the fact that the openness didn't scare him. He wore no mask as he talked about the first time he had taken a life, and it felt refreshingly good.

* * *

"911 calls?" Ziva asked, stunned.

"All thirty calls were made from the same place, all within about an hour," Gibbs said. "There's an address. Let's go."

Ziva grabbed her gear and followed Gibbs. "We are not calling McGee or Tony, are we?"

"Nope," Gibbs said, glad to see she agreed. "We'll be just fine on our own."

* * *

McGee sat sideways on the seat, head held in his hands, and tried not to throw up again. His earlier need to babble was gone, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Tony may be the expert on concussions, but even McGee knew that was a bad sign. He hoped Abby would hurry and was relieved to hear footsteps approaching.

"Took you long enough, Abbs," he mumbled, looking up.

"You're not Abby," McGee rather unnecessarily told the man looking down at him. Before McGee could say any more, his world went black.


	10. Chapter 10

Gibbs drove in his usual death-defying manner and was glad to have a passenger who didn't complain. He stared at the address again, something about it tickling the back of his mind. But he couldn't place why the address seemed familiar so he just drove, making short work of the last remnants of rush-hour traffic.

"You are driving awfully fast to get to a years-old crime scene," Ziva noted.

"If it's even a crime scene," Gibbs acknowledged, but he didn't let up on the gas pedal.

Ziva smiled.

***

"I was a cop in Philly," Tony said. "Still pretty green, really. I had this great partner, Andy Devlin. He was an old guy who had seen it all, done it all. He also knew where all the really good food was in the city. I think I put on ten pounds my first month on the job with him. Anyway, he had this thing about green cars, always said they were bad luck. So we pull up to this building on a domestic dispute call one night, and there sits a green Caddy."

"_You see that, DiNozzo?" Devlin asked, pointing to the car._

"_Yeah, Dev, it's a Caddy. Nice car."_

"_You little punk," Devlin said affectionately. "It's a green Caddy is what it is. Green. This call is gonna be trouble. You bring your A game today, kid?"_

"_Always," DiNozzo answered, still young and eager. He hopped out of the car and started toward the building, turning to wait for his partner to lumber across the road. "You know, Dev, maybe it's more of an olive than a green."_

_Devlin punched his shoulder, rolling his eyes. "One of these days, kid, you'll figure it out."_

_The older cop was further annoyed by the fact that the elevators in the building were out and they had to huff it up ten stories to get to the apartment of the feuding couple. DiNozzo heard them screaming at each other over the heavy breathing of his big partner. _

_They each took a side of the door, but before they went in, Devlin said quietly, "DiNozzo. Never underestimate a domestic. Affairs of the heart and all that bullshit, but you always watch your back on these 'cause you never know."_

_DiNozzo nodded, thinking about the paperwork this was going to generate. He focused on the task at hand, though, as he knocked hard on the door and yelled, "Philly PD! Open the door!"_

_They heard a gunshot, and Devlin muttered, "I told you so, DiNozzo."_

_The partners exchanged a look. Devlin nodded and DiNozzo kicked in the door, following his partner into the apartment and immediately seeing the dead woman staring lifelessly at the ceiling. He heard another gunshot and thought the man had killed himself until Devlin dropped to his knees in front of him, gun falling to the floor as he raised his hands to the wound. DiNozzo raised his own gun and put a bullet through the head of the man pointing a gun at him. The young cop barely registered the thump as the man's dead body hit the floor._

"_No, Dev, no," DiNozzo cried, dropping to his knees and pulling out his radio. "1013! Officer down. I need a bus at this location now!"_

_DiNozzo put his hands on the gushing wound in his partner's neck. He pressed down as hard as he dared and watched the light fade out of the older man's eyes. _

"_Green … cars," Devlin gasped, seeing the horror in his young partner's eyes and wanting to tell him everything was going to be okay. But it wasn't. "I told … you."_

_Tears slipped down DiNozzo's face as he looked into his dying mentor's eyes. "No, Dev. You're gonna be fine."_

"_You're … a good … cop … D. Don't ever … forget … that."_

_As the old man's eyes slipped shut for the final time, DiNozzo let out a wail of pain and despair, and his bloody hands curled into fists. Even all these years later, he still remembered feeling so very alone in that room full of the recently dead. _

"God, Tony," Watts said from her perch on the bed. "That's awful."

She was refilling his glass before he even noticed he'd drained it while telling the story. His hands shook and he chalked it up to booze and painkillers instead of the memory that still woke him on bad nights.

"So was going home to an empty apartment that night. I drank myself stupid and punched holes in the walls."

"Did it help?" she asked quietly.

Tony lifted his glass in a solemn cheers. "I'm still breathing."

***

"I know where we're going," Gibbs said suddenly.

"I … That is good?" Ziva said, confused.

"I mean," Gibbs said as they sped down the road, "I knew the address, but now I know where we're going. Pacci had a cabin that he inherited from his uncle. That's where Bell made his last calls from."

Ziva looked at the trees whizzing by. "Hmmm. Did he use it often?"

"Rarely. I came up here once with him because there's a good fishing pond nearby."

"What happened to it when he died?"

"Went to his younger brother, but he lives in Maine. If there's a body here, it should have been found back then," Gibbs said, pulling the car onto a dirt road.

They traveled in silence until they reached the cabin, which was badly in need of repair. Wordlessly, they began searching, hindered greatly by the darkness. They searched inside first, even pulling up floorboards. Then they separated and searched the surrounding woods.

Gibbs was about to give up when he heard Ziva calling his name. He looked around and didn't see her until he moved to the dropoff to the left of the cabin. Ziva was at the bottom of the slope in a thick stand of trees, standing next to an old, dirty, beaten-up freezer.

He could tell by the look on her face that they had found Scott Bell.

***

"McGee!" Abby shrieked as she left his building.

McGee was slumped on the ground with a man kneeling beside him.

The man looked up at Abby's cry. "Oh thank goodness. You know this young man?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Abby said. "He's a federal agent, and he has a bad head injury, and he must have passed out. Oh, poor Timmy! I need to get you to the hospital!"

The man helped Abby load McGee into the car and wished her luck as she sped away.

McGee woke up briefly, mumbled something about eating pavement and passed out again.

Abby babbled comforting nonsense all the way to the hospital.

***

Ziva gagged as she and Gibbs pried the lid off the rusty freezer and the smell of death assaulted them.

Ziva knew if she didn't actually throw up at this crime scene, she never would.

Gibbs looked into the freezer at the remains and saw the cell phone. He took a breath, then reached in and checked the rotting pockets of the pants Bell had died in. He pulled out a wallet and a single sheet of paper. He handed the paper to Ziva and opened the wallet.

"It's Bell," Gibbs said. He looked at Ziva, noting the shock on her face.

"It's a lab report," she said slowly. Her deep brown eyes met Gibbs' blue ones. "The hair from the Langworthy scene was Watts'."

Gibbs swore loudly. "She killed Langworthy."

"And Bell," Ziva said.

Their eyes met and they both spoke at the same time. "Tony!"

***

Tony was definitely still breathing. But he was also in pain. His knee still throbbed in time with the beating of his heart as he listened to Watts' sharing her pain. She had been talking about shooting a suspect to save Agent Mason's life. Oddly, he didn't remember hearing about that, but maybe the alcohol and pills were starting to get to him.

"And I didn't want to do it, but I had to," she said.

He noticed she didn't seem very upset. He had been listening for a while now, and it seemed she was getting calmer instead of more affected by the story.

"I had to," she said again, watching Tony's face closely. "And I did it. I shot Langworthy right in the head."

_Why is she looking at me like that?_ Tony wondered. _Wait. Back that up a minute. Langworthy?_

She saw the moment he realized what she had said.

"You shot Cpl. Langworthy," Tony said slowly, setting his empty glass on the side table. He looked at it suspiciously. _You drugged yourself, you idiot._

A thousand thoughts crashed through his head as he watched her grab his cell phone from the table, grinning wickedly.

One thought stood out: _She's going to kill you._

***

Gibbs drove while Ziva made the necessary phone calls to get another team up to the cabin to process the gruesome scene. She would never forget the bloody smears on the inside of the freezer, and she fought against images of the young man desperately making those 911 calls and finally trying to claw his way out. She snapped the phone shut after several minutes.

"Still no answer. All I get is voicemail," she said disgustedly, and he knew she was talking about Tony.

"He could have taken painkillers and passed out," Gibbs said, sounding oddly optimistic even though he doubted his words. He was glad he'd said it, though, when he saw Ziva sigh and nod, at least considering the possibility.

Ziva began tapping away at a laptop and said, "We should have seen this."

Gibbs nodded tersely, suddenly too angry to speak.

"The missing drug evidence was her, Gibbs. She stole and sold it. Langworthy saw her, recognized her from the rape case, and she killed him," Ziva said, the dots connecting in her head. "She was wearing expensive clothes today. Fines, the banker, said Bell was scared when he withdrew the money. I bet she found out Pacci gave the hair to Bell and thought she was caught. She confronted Bell, maybe threatened to kill him. He offered to give her the inheritance money in exchange for his life. She probably took the money and killed him anyway."

"Pacci was right," Gibbs said.

"The hair was Watts'. But it was no sloppy rookie mistake. It was evidence."

"He was right that Watts was sloppy, though. She didn't even bother to search Bell when she locked him in that freezer to die."

Ziva made a disgusted sound, and Gibbs thought she was thinking about Bell's horrific death. But then she looked up from the laptop and said, "Watts is not married. There is no child."

Gibbs thought back to the hurt her words about the obviously fictional "Lizzie" had caused him and hated the woman even more.

"Those calls were all fake," Ziva said. "We should have seen it. The 'husband's' cell was a local number. She said he just hadn't had it changed."

"Hindsight is 20/20, Ziva," Gibbs said, even though he was feeling guilty himself. "Some people don't change numbers when they move. Don't beat yourself up over this."

"But Tony could be in trouble," she said quietly. "He is hurt and has no idea who he is dealing with."

"She could have just dropped him off and skipped town," Gibbs said.

"I doubt that very much, Gibbs," Ziva said, wishing they were back in the District already. "She has showed just by demanding to 'aid' our investigation of her crimes that she is brazen."

"Or she's an idiot," Gibbs grumbled. "She thought she'd covered up all of the evidence of her crimes."

"That is why she was so shocked that McGee found the records," Ziva said, thinking back. "She thought they were long gone and she was safe."

"It's why she didn't protest leaving while you stayed and searched," Gibbs said.

They were both quiet, thinking the same thing. Ziva finally gave it a voice: "She may have taken Tony as some sort of messed up revenge for him breaking the cold cases."

Gibbs didn't speak. He just stomped harder on the gas pedal while Ziva tried to find the hotel where Watts was registered.

***

Abby left McGee sleeping in his hospital bed and went outside to use her phone. Gibbs was going to be mad that she had waited so long to call him, but she hadn't wanted to leave McGee alone through all the tests.

"Yeah, Gibbs," he answered, and she thought he sounded distracted.

"Gibbs, I'm so sorry it took me so long to call, but I'm at the hospital with McGee, and he's in rough shape."

"Slow down, Abby, tell me what's wrong."

"I was taking him home and he starting throwing up, and then he passed out so I brought him here. They did a bunch of tests and said he should be okay with some rest, but 'should be' isn't good enough. I want them to promise me he's okay."

"I know, Abbs. But you have to trust them."

There was a pause and then Abby said, "What aren't you telling me, Gibbs?"

"We found Bell. He's dead. Watts killed him and Langworthy."

"And now Tony's with her," Abby fairly shrieked. "Did you call him? Is he okay?"

"All we get is his voicemail. Abby, I need you to trace his cell. Or Watts'. We need to find him. Call Ducky and get him to stay with McGee."

"He's already on his way," Abby said, sounding dejected and scared. "I'll call him and let him know what's going on though. We have to find Tony, Gibbs. He's hurt already!"

"I know, Abbs. We'll find him."


	11. Chapter 11

The lovely Taryn Watts stomped on Tony's cell and leered at him, rage twisting her pretty features.

"You just had to find that damned note, didn't you?" she growled.

Tony had to think for a moment. Ah, the note. The one link between Bell and Langworthy.

"You knew about that note?" Tony asked, wanting her to talk and not do anything else. He thought he heard a slight slur in his words and cursed himself for drinking while on pain medication.

"Oh, yeah," she snorted unattractively. "I knew it was in the file. I saw it on Mason's desk the day I was leaving NCIS for good. I wanted so badly to just grab it and run, but I didn't have a chance to take it. While I said my goodbyes, I managed to stick it to another note. I just had to hope it would stay hidden. And it did. Until you."

He winced at the hatred in her eyes and marveled at how easily he had spilled his guts to this woman. It left him feeling unsettled. "Why are you telling me this? Why not just go back to your husband and daughter and forget about it?"

"Ha. Husband. There is no husband. No little Lizzie, either."

"The local number," Tony said, shaking his head in anger at himself. How had he not seen that?

"Guess I gave out my number to too many men at the bar last night and begged them to call me today." She laughed. "Men are so pathetic."

He realized that it should have bothered him that a number had popped up on her caller ID and not a name. Who didn't have contacts labeled these days?

He saw that she was looking intently at him. "But you didn't fall for my batted eyelashes." She looked offended. "You gay?"

He shook his head, amazed at her arrogance. "Just don't find you attractive."

"And that was even before you knew I was a murderer," she said.

She grinned and he grimaced. "You're dying to know, aren't you?"

The scene was a bit too familiar for him and he glanced at the scars on his left hand. He sighed heavily, the movement awakening the pain in his ribs that had been dulled by alcohol and pills. He looked across at his gun, which lay where she had set it upon entering the room. She had "accidentally" bumped into him and picked up the weapon for him, setting it conveniently out of his reach. He thought about the knife in his pocket and wondered if she knew it was there.

"Don't even think about it," she said, following his gaze. "There's no way you'll get to that gun before I do. Remind me to thank whoever gave you the bum leg."

He just stared, trying to quell his building rage. "Why did you confess to the murder?" Tony asked again.

"Your agent will find Scott Bell's phone records. It will lead them to Bell's body."

She watched him blink slowly at that and was proud of her ability. She had gotten him to drink while giving him the old teary-eyed damsel in distress routine. His dead partner story couldn't have worked out better for her, and she remembered him downing the alcohol, presumably to drown the pain she had seen in his eyes.

"Oh he's dead all right." She smiled. "Technically, I didn't kill him though. But I am the reason he's dead. He came to my apartment the night before Pacci died. I didn't live far, and it was easy to convince him to come to me when he called and said he needed to talk to me about something important. He always wanted me, you know."

Her arrogance was making Tony's stomach turn. Or maybe it was the alcohol-painkiller combo. He could do nothing but sit there listening to her talk and hope to hell he could get the knife out of his pocket and ready to use before she finished. Or noticed the knife.

"He came in and I poured him a drink. Funny what alcohol does to people. Then, he said Pacci found my hair at the Langworthy scene, and I just lost it. I hit him over the head with a heavy crystal decanter. I was glad it didn't break. That thing was expensive. But then again, I was making bank selling that drug evidence I was slowly stealing. Too bad they were catching on to that. I was selling drugs in an alley in the neighborhood one day when Langworthy saw me. He recognized me from the rape case, and he knew I was making a transaction, so to speak. The little freak I was selling to ran off when I pulled my gun. I shot Langworthy before he even had a chance to say anything."

Tony closed his eyes in pain and disgust. She may have been beautiful on the outside, but all he saw when he looked at her was her black soul.

"But anyway, back to Bell. Maybe I should have just shot him, too." She pondered this for a moment, then shrugged, picking up Tony's gun. He took a deep breath and moved his hand closer to the pocket containing the knife.

She played the gun back and forth between her hands like a toy while she spoke. "I had heard about the inheritance he had gotten, though. I got greedy. I also knew I could get caught any day for stealing the evidence, but apparently I covered my tracks well. I tied Bell up and waited for him to wake up. I told him I wasn't going down for Langworthy's murder because of him."

She laughed, but Tony saw no humor in the situation. He put his hand alongside his pocket, slowly inching the knife toward the opening through the fabric and praying she wouldn't notice the tiny movements.

***

Abby typed furiously in her lab. She wasn't getting anywhere. She turned at the sound of Gibbs' and Ziva's voices.

Gibbs opened his arms, and Abby melted against him, trying not to cry. Over Abby's shoulder, Gibbs saw Ziva's composure slip for a fraction of a second. Gibbs wondered if he should hug her, too.

But he said, "You got anything?"

Abby pulled away, wiping away the single tear that slipped down her cheek. "No. His cell doesn't go to voicemail anymore, either. She probably dismantled it or broke it."

"We stopped by his apartment. Looks like he never made it there," Ziva said, blinking back sudden tears. _Get it together,_ she ordered herself.

"Start checking registries at hotels," Gibbs said. He remembered something Ziva had said earlier about Watts' expensive clothes. "Starting with the high-end ones. Ask about customers paying in cash and give a description. She may be an idiot, but she may have been smart enough to use a fake name."

Ziva and Abby got to work. Gibbs moved to the windows set high in the wall and stared out into the blackness. He almost jumped when the first fat raindrop hit the glass, and he forced down memories of the night they lost Kate.

_Where the hell are you, DiNozzo?_ he thought, then turned to help make calls.

***

"He practically begged me to take the inheritance money," Watts said, still turning Tony's gun in her hands. If she didn't shoot him on purpose, she might do it accidentally. "He wanted to trade it for his life. How pathetic. But I agreed because I had already decided to leave NCIS. Pacci's death the next day was just icing on the cake. It gave me such an easy out."

Tony couldn't contain his rage at her callous statement. "You bitch," he spat, wishing he could get up and choke the life out of her already cold eyes.

She pointed the gun at him, all playing forgotten. "What did you call me?"

"You heard me, bitch."

She just laughed and resumed playing with the gun. "I really need to thank whoever hurt you. It's so handy. Better than restraints. Imagine if room service came in and I had you all tied up."

The obvious arousal in her eyes made Tony nearly gag.

"But you're getting me off track. I spent the night with Bell telling him all the ways I could kill him if he didn't give me the money. It was quite fun. I called an old friend, a guy I could trust because, well, he was in love with me and would do anything I told him to. He came over, and in the morning, we took Bell and watched him make the withdrawal. Once I had the money, I told Bell we were going to Pacci's old cabin and that I would have to leave him there while I made my escape. That was a dumb thing to do, I guess. I think he knew what I had planned for him so he jumped out while we were in the warehouse district."

_Good for you, Scott,_ Tony thought, inching the knife ever closer to freedom.

"Davey and I spent almost all day looking for him. Thank God I thought to take his cell. I was so mad that it took so long to find him that when we did," there was a glint in her eye that made Tony shudder, "I decided to make him pay. No simple bullet to the head for him."

She paused and Tony held his breath, hoping she hadn't noticed the knife or his subtle movements. But she just said, "You were so kind to share your story with me. I think I'll return the favor."

"What exactly do you want from me, Watts?" Tony asked, not sure if he could handle listening to her voice any longer.

"What happened to 'Taryn'?" she asked, feigning hurt.

"Don't act upset," he snapped. "You obviously don't have emotions so stop trying to fake them."

"Oh," she scoffed, shaking her head. There was fire in her eyes. "I have emotions. Right now, I feel angry. Like I did back when I was an agent, and no one gave me any credit. No one cared that I'm smart and beautiful and a capable investigator. It was the only time I ever cursed my looks. No one looked past the exterior or even tried to give me a chance. It was always just 'Poor dumb, pretty Taryn.' "

"So now you need to show me how smart you are?" Tony knew he was pushing her and that it might not be a good idea. Uninjured, he could have taken her down as soon as she admitted the killings. But he was definitely injured, and a small voice at the back of his mind told him not to push her, but he ignored it. "You need to tell me all about how you got away with it? Well, _Special Agent Watts,_ your plan sucks. My team will figure this out, and you will not get away with it." He leveled her with an even look. "Pacci said you weren't good enough to be an agent, and he was right."

From the murderous look in her eyes, Tony thought she was going to hit him, but then he saw she had something else in mind. He thought about yelling his head off, but he knew she would have no problem with shooting him.

"I decided to make him pay for running. We took him into this filthy alley, and I let Davey work him over a bit. Then I got behind him and held his arms while Davey pounded on him. It was strange. I could feel the blows in my chest, but it was hurting only him. It was so thrilling, such a physical sensation. Davey hit him in the face, and I heard his nose breaking because I was so close to him. It was so visceral, so _real_. It felt so good to hold him there, feeling him struggling against me, getting weaker and weaker. I decided we were done for a bit, and I let him think we were leaving, but I was still watching him. Savoring the moment."

She continued to speak in a voice filled with childlike excitement, and Tony tried to tune her out. He couldn't, and it made him sick.

_There was so much blood. _

_It was pouring from his mouth and nose, and I could tell he could barely breathe. He coughed, gagged, spit the blood on the dirty ground._

_I knew that the blood wasn't just from the damage to his mouth or the broken nose. We had really done a number on him, I remember thinking as I watched him try to get up._

_He got to his knees, and he put a hand on the brick wall in front of him—or at least he tried to. He fell forward, having misjudged the distance. I figured his lack of depth perception was caused by his inability to open his left eye._

_He curled on his side, left arm cradling what had to be broken ribs. He spat more blood, closing his eyes. I saw him trying to scream, but he couldn't draw a deep enough breath to get out more than a pathetic whisper._

_He got to his hands and knees, and he managed to half-crawl, half-drag himself about halfway to the dark, deserted street before he stopped, closing his eyes, and I could see him puking up bright red blood._

_He managed to crawl a few feet farther before collapsing again. The guy just wouldn't quit, though, and he got back to his knees. He crawled, cutting his hands on broken glass. The blood from those injuries mixed with what he was trying not to choke on._

_He finally made it to the street, only to find it utterly devoid of life. He collapsed again, fighting the blackness until he could fight no longer._

"We picked him up and tossed him in the trunk. Drove out to the cabin and put him in this old freezer." Her tone was disinterested, and he knew he was running out of time. The knife was almost out of his pocket and he hoped against hope that she wouldn't see it.

"We locked the freezer and heaved it over the embankment," she said, looking thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure he was still alive at that point. I left his cell phone with him to give him some false hope, a little more punishment for running. I knew the calls wouldn't go through."

She paused again, and Tony hoped it was over. He couldn't imagine the horror Bell must have felt when he realized he was going to die in that freezer. Watts pointed the gun at his head, and he thought, _I'm not dying here, not now._

"You wanna know something?" Tony asked, his eyes on the barrel of his own gun. "You didn't have to kill Bell. Pacci thought it was your hair at the Langworthy scene, but he figured it was just another example of your sloppy work. He had no idea you killed the Corporal."

He saw her eyes widen and gave voice to what he knew she was thinking. "Yeah, Watts, that's right. If you hadn't killed Bell to cover the murder, no one would have ever known you killed Langworthy. It would have stayed a cold case without the connection to Bell."

Tony swung his injured leg off the ottoman and lunged at Watts, hoping she was still too stunned to react. The sound of the gun firing next to his right ear was deafening, but the bullet sailed harmlessly over his shoulder. He landed hard on top of her, the knife plunging into her chest. Gasping in pain, Tony rolled off of her. She lay flat on her back, eyes staring at the ceiling, mouth working as she gasped in little breaths. She put her hands on the hilt of the knife just as blood started pouring out of her open mouth.

Her eyes met his, and she whispered, "Why? Why do I deserve to die?"

He looked down at her in disgust. "Because Langworthy and Bell didn't."

He saw the moment the life blinked out of her eyes, and he leaned his battered body back against the bed, wondering why no one was breaking down the door at the sound of the gunshot. He looked at the remains of his cell phone and forced himself awkwardly to his feet. He sat on the bed, looking away from Watts' bloody corpse and picked up the phone.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who has so kindly reviewed. I appreciate it! Here's a long, angsty one for you. There are mentions of suicide so if that bothers you, please don't read!

In the lobby of the upscale hotel, Gibbs and Ziva heard the gunshot and raced for the stairs.

Neither spoke as they pounded up the stairs and down the hallway. There was no sound coming from the room, and for a moment, neither could force their hand to open the door. Gibbs slid the keycard in and yanked it out. Ziva pushed open the door and prayed in every language she knew that they wouldn't find Tony dead in the room.

Gibbs' phone began to ring, and Tony set down the receiver. "Nice timing."

Gibbs and Ziva took in the body on the floor along with the knife sticking out of the chest. While Ziva felt for a pulse she knew wouldn't be there, Gibbs asked Tony, "Are you all right?"

"I can't hear out of my right ear, but other than that, I'm good." He laughed and Gibbs noted with concern the wildness in his eyes. "As good as I was this morning, anyway."

Gibbs crossed the room and put a hand on Tony's shoulder. He looked into his agent's eyes and saw a mixture of pain and sadness and something else he couldn't quite read.

"Hey," Gibbs said softly, "What did she say to you?"

Tony shuddered under Gibbs' hand. "It would be easier to tell you what she didn't tell me."

Gibbs wasn't sure what to do with that so he just stared, willing Tony to tell him whatever it was that had him so shaken. Surely it wasn't killing Watts. The woman was a cold-blooded killer, and Tony had taken lives before.

"I'm guessing since you're here, you found Bell's body?" Tony asked, his voice a bit stronger. He shook off Gibbs' hand and managed to stand, if a touch shakily.

Gibbs nodded, unconsciously sliding his hand under Tony's elbow. He was surprised when the agent shook him off again. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Tony, but didn't touch him.

"Don't, Gibbs," Tony said, his voice rough with emotion. He looked away from both Gibbs' and Ziva's confused stares. "I'm a complete waste of space. I had no idea what a monster she was until she flat-out confessed to Langworthy's murder. Even then, it took me a minute to process it since she turned on the tears and got me to have a drink with her. And you don't have to say it, drinking on painkillers is brilliant, I know."

Tony saw Gibbs' eyes dart to the empty glass beside the armchair, and Tony felt every bit as disgusted with himself as he knew his boss would be with him. He went on, "But she was talking about Pacci and all I could think about was Kate, dead on that goddamned rooftop."

Gibbs' blue eyes snapped back to his green ones at that statement, and suddenly Tony couldn't bear to look at him anymore. He hobbled crutchless past his boss, the fiery pain in his damaged knee bringing him completely sober. He laughed out loud. _As if stabbing a woman in the chest and watching her gasp her last breaths hadn't already._

Ziva and Gibbs exchanged a look at the odd little laugh and knew Tony wasn't done. Tony stopped and stood over Watts' cooling body. He looked down at her with hatred. "She wouldn't stop talking. Her voice was completely different once she confessed. I've never heard anyone sound so dead, so completely emotionless." The scars on his wrist caught his eye, and he said quietly, "Not even Amie."

The room was silent for everyone except Tony—his ears were still ringing from the gun firing so close to his head.

"She told you everything then?" Ziva questioned softly, moving closer to her partner. She didn't touch him, just let him feel the warmth radiating from the nearness of her body.

The odd little laugh came again. "Yeah. Everything. You found Bell so you know about the end. She told me the beginning, the middle _and_ the end. It was horrifying to just sit there and listen. I felt dirty just listening to her." He paused, shuddered again, and said, "I need to get out of here."

He walked, limping badly but moving quickly, to the door. He made it about halfway before Gibbs stepped between him and door, grabbing Tony by both arms. Tony moved to put his hands to his chest and push the older man off, but Gibbs gave him a hard shake.

"Hey," Gibbs said softly but firmly. "We'll get you out of here, but you're not walking on that leg. Okay?"

Ziva was suddenly beside him with the crutches and he took them without a word. She asked, "Do you want me to take you home?"

He was already hobbling toward the door. "I just want to be alone. And you have a body to deal with."

"How are you planning on getting home?" Gibbs asked.

Tony snorted. "Well I'm damned sure not getting a ride with a stranger. Ever again."

Gibbs' concern for his friend lifted just a fraction at that. He looked at Ziva and motioned to the body. "Can you handle this?"

She nodded and Gibbs thought he saw relief in her eyes. He followed his agent into the hall and glared at the curious guests who had gathered, daring them to ask questions. In the elevator, Tony felt Gibbs watching him as he leaned his head against the side wall.

He was surprised to find himself relieved that it was Gibbs who accompanied him and not Ziva. It was easy to fall back into their old routine at work and pretend they had never taken the relationship further. But to have her in his home would have been too much for his already quivering psyche. _And trying to act normal for Gibbs is going to be a walk in the park?_

As he made his slow way to the car, he couldn't help but think about how easy it had been to be so open with Watts. It made him physically sick to think that she had scripted a role for him and he had played the part with Oscar-worthy perfection. He suddenly envied the corpse up in that hotel room. _It_ didn't have to think about Kate or Dev or Bell's gruesome death.

_Shit. _"I don't wanna go home, Boss," Tony said suddenly.

"I'm not leaving you alone tonight, Tony," Gibbs said, unnerving him with both the statement and the rare use of his first name.

Tony shook his head. "No, I mean, Scott Bell's parents need to know that we found him."

Gibbs glanced at the bruises peeking out from the neck of Tony's sweater and sighed. "No way, DiNozzo. The last thing you need is two hours in a car with that knee."

"They deserve more than a phone call," Tony said. He paused, then quietly said, "And they should hear it from me."

Gibbs was silent, and Tony thought he was going to agree. "Not tonight." He saw that Tony was about to protest and said, "They've been waiting for years. They can wait another day."

"Would you want to wait?" Tony said, immediately regretting it.

He started to apologize, but Gibbs just said, "It'll be past midnight by the time we get there. There won't be anything for them to do but sit up all night and suffer. I'll take you in the morning."

The unexpected kindness brought even less expected tears to Tony's eyes. He blinked them away quickly, even though he doubted Gibbs would notice in the darkened car.

"Ah, hell," Gibbs exclaimed suddenly as he pulled into the parking garage.

Tony just eyed him, trying to figure out what on Earth could make Gibbs look so … nervous?

Gibbs stopped the car and shoved his cell into Tony's hand. "Call Abby."

Tony grinned. He wondered if the scientist knew she was the only soul on the planet who could strike fear—okay maybe not fear, exactly—into the heart of Jethro Gibbs. He dialed, sighing as he had to switch ears to be able to hear the phone's ringing and not the residual ringing from the gunshot.

Abby picked up and started talking a mile a minute until Tony broke in with, "Abbs. It's me."

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Tony, are you hurt? I mean more hurt than before? Oh my god, oh my god, just please tell me you're okay!"

"I'm good, Abbs," he said. "But unfortunately, I can't walk and talk right now. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay," Abby said, sounding disappointed. "Promise?"

"I promise."

***

Tony understood when Gibbs demanded that he follow him up to his apartment. He understood when he followed him through the door and watched him collapse tiredly on his couch. _Wouldn't it just be a bitch if I tripped and broke my damned neck after everything that's happened?_

He drew the line at Gibbs' suggestion that they order a pizza and talk.

Tony looked at him as if he had just caught him cross-dressing. "What gives, Gibbs? You don't talk. You glare." He paused. "And oddly seem to get the message across while doing it."

Gibbs just looked vaguely amused. "Thought those painkillers didn't make you loopy?"

"They don't. But listening to emotionless recounts of two horrible, senseless murders and then killing said murderer? Yeah, that kinda does."

Gibbs just turned and walked down the hallway.

"Hey!" Tony called. As if he didn't feel bad enough, having Gibbs in his formerly Gibbs-free personal space was really creeping him out.

Gibbs returned with two bed pillows and slid them under Tony's injured leg with a gentleness Tony could never have imagined coming from his boss. Tony had to admit, though, that the elevation made his knee throb decidedly less ferociously. "Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs nodded and disappeared again. Tony heard him fiddling with his coffeemaker while calling for a pizza. He sighed, but deep down, he was pathetically glad to not be alone. Every time he closed his eyes, he was struck with a new vision that ran on a continuous loop of Kate, Devlin, Bell and crime scene photos of Langworthy's mess of a head. He was suddenly extremely grateful to have been spared the Bell scene. He didn't want to imagine the state in which years in an airtight freezer would have left the remains.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked from the kitchen doorway, a cup of coffee in his hands. "You look awfully pale all of a sudden."

"Just thinking," Tony said, still trying to get used to Gibbs in his apartment.

"Well stop," Gibbs said simply.

Tony looked at him and shook his head. "You can probably do that, can't you? Just flip a switch and stop thinking. That's a trick you need to teach me sometime, Boss."

Gibbs gave him a half-smile. "Your apartment isn't big enough to build a boat in."

Tony smiled at that, but Gibbs could see that the haunted look had not left his brilliant green eyes. Gibbs watched Tony unconsciously tracing the scars on his wrist, something he had noticed the young agent had taken to doing when he was troubled.

"Okay," Tony said, suddenly sounding half-panicked. "Since this is my place, can I make a rule? Sure I can. Good. You can stay, but you have to promise not to look at me like that. Okay? Now I know how that frog felt in biology class."

Gibbs held up his hands and went to sit in an overstuffed chair beside the black leather couch. The chair was perpendicular to the couch, situated near Tony's head, and Tony stared up at the ceiling and sighed. "Yeah, that's better," he said, the sarcasm evident. "Now you can see me, but I can't see you without breaking my neck. That's fantastic."

"You want me to move?" Gibbs asked, wondering why Tony was this upset. Gibbs thought back to the freezer. He saw the condition of Bell's body, the blood pooling in the bottom that wasn't all from torn fingernails as the young man clawed in futility. He guessed that Tony had heard about the beating in explicit detail and wondered what else they had talked about.

"No," Tony said finally, closing his eyes, absently rubbing his ear and willing the ringing to go away.

"The ringing will go away," Gibbs said, reading the gesture and speaking from experience. "Probably be gone by morning."

"I don't care," Tony said, his tongue playing over the stitches in his mouth. He found it odd that he kept forgetting about them, and he wondered if someone with a desk job, a normal, boring 9-to-5 would forget.

Tony's statement unnerved Gibbs, who found himself questioning his earlier "has issues, not suicidal" diagnosis of his agent.

But then Tony said, "She didn't shoot me. That's all that matters, I guess."

Gibbs ignored the last part of that. Or tried to. "You got any bourbon?"

Tony laughed tightly, realizing how his statements had sounded to his boss. "Kitchen, above the fridge."

Gibbs got up, but he looked down at Tony's pale face and pinched features. "Booze or painkillers?"

Tony looked up, confused. "Huh?"

Gibbs' tone was gentle and he held Tony's eyes when he said, "You're in pain, DiNozzo. Booze or painkillers? You can't have both. Not on my watch, anyway."

Knowing he'd have to take half the bottle of painkillers to get any sleep, he said, "Booze. There should be a bottle of Jameson up there." His tone was tinged with something Gibbs couldn't read when he added, "I save it for special occasions." He shook his head and closed his eyes.

Gibbs went to the kitchen and rooted around, surprised to find everything neat and orderly. There was not a dish in the sink, and Gibbs wondered why he'd expected any. Tony's home was as polished as any of his many masks. Gibbs carried the drinks back to the living room and handed the whiskey to his senior agent. Gibbs couldn't remember the last time they'd had a drink together.

They sat in silence, each man drinking and remembering, whether he wanted to or not. The doorbell rang, and Tony said, "There's cash on the hall table. What? I don't cook much."

Gibbs shook his head and went to the door. Delicious smells returned with him, and Tony realized how hungry he was. They ate in silence, and when they had finished, Gibbs said, "Well, at least I don't have to worry about your appetite."

Tony snorted. "I'm not bulimic, Gibbs. Food is never the enemy."

"Some people might be offended by that joke, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, finishing his drink and getting up to get a refill.

"Some people _were_ offended by that mustache of yours," Tony called after him.

Tony quirked an eyebrow when Gibbs returned with the bottle of bourbon and a glass of water. He handed Tony the water and said, "Take the painkillers, kid. You're obviously not going to drink the booze. I forgot about those stitches in your busted lip. Bet that stung like hell."

Tony realized he had completed his ritual of taking a sip and, unable to pour the rest out, had abandoned the glass on the table. He dutifully complied with Gibbs' gentle order and hoped the little white pills would do their job quickly and ease the tearing pain in his knee. He had known since feeling the pipe connect in that alley that the injury was bad because it had that coming-apart feel that only serious injuries could produce.

"Nah. It's what I do. One sip and then I usually pour the rest down the sink," Tony said, then wondered why he'd said it. Maybe his tolerance was suffering from disuse.

"You'd never be like him," Gibbs said quietly, almost to himself.

But Tony heard him and felt the kind words like a blow to the chest. He wondered why it hurt so much to hear those words that were meant to offer comfort, and he realized it was because he didn't like letting anyone get so close to him. He had found that it didn't hurt so much when they were gone if you never let them in to begin with.

"I can't talk about my father tonight, Gibbs. Please," Tony said, the plea coming out more than a little strangled.

"We don't have to talk about anything," Gibbs said, sorry he'd dredged up another demon for DiNozzo to do battle with. The exhaustion was evident on his agent's face, and Gibbs wished he'd just down half a bottle and get some sleep. He knew he wouldn't, though. DiNozzo never took the easy way out when it mattered. "Unless you want to," he added.

Tony didn't respond, and he jumped a little when Gibbs' phone rang. It was almost midnight.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

Tony listened to Gibbs listening to someone on the phone.

"That's good to hear, Abbs. Thanks for letting me know."

Tony heard the phone click shut.

"McGee's … " Gibbs paused, realizing Tony had no idea what had happened to McGee earlier. He wished he hadn't said anything because he knew it would make Tony feel guilty. Only Tony could save someone's life and then feel bad about the circumstances. "McGee passed out on the way home. Abby took him to the hospital, but the doctors promised her he'll be fine with some rest."

"I shouldn't have tackled him," Tony said wearily. He was so tired, but every time he shut his eyes, he saw the horrorfest of bodies.

"We'd be worrying about the bullet _in_ his head instead of the bump _on_ his head if you hadn't," Gibbs said. He paused. "And you know that."

"Mmmm, well, guilt and I are old friends. It's not easy to say goodbye."

"You have nothing to feel guilty about," Gibbs said, tossing back the remains of his drink and pouring another.

"I killed someone tonight," Tony said, matter-of-factly. "Some might think that's reason enough to feel guilty."

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked, unable to help himself. "She killed a damned fine Marine and a young man with a bright future. You killed her before she put a bullet in you. Are you saying you feel guilty about that?"

Tony wished like hell he could see his boss's face. "Of course not. I'd kill her again if given the chance. That's the problem, really. I don't feel anything. I ended someone's life and I don't feel a stitch of remorse… nothing."

"DiNozzo—"

"I don't ever want to be like her. She told me how she murdered two innocent people and there was nothing in her voice. Nothing at all. She could have been reading a grocery list if she hadn't been talking about maliciously beating a man half to death and leaving him for dead. So I need to feel something over her death. I killed her, and that's not really cause for celebration, even if she deserved it. Hell, she deserved worse. I remember wishing she had suffered more at the end for all the pain she caused. What kind of person does that make me?"

"One interested in justice," Gibbs said without hesitation.

Tony forced himself upright, ignoring the flickers of pain that lit up across his battered body. He looked Gibbs in the eye. "Does it still bother you to take a life?"

Gibbs lifted a shoulder. "It depends on the situation."

"That's a bullshit answer, Boss."

"Why's that?" Gibbs asked, holding Tony's intense gaze.

"Because you don't kill innocent people, and according to what you've told me, if it's justified then you shouldn't feel guilty."

"You asked if it still bothered me," Gibbs said slowly. "Being bothered isn't the same as feeling guilty. But I'm not going to lose sleep over every scumbag I've had to take out."

Tony thought about that for a long moment. "I guess I'm just fucked up, then," he said and struggled to his feet. "Bathroom," he said when Gibbs started to rise.

Gibbs watched Tony hobble down the hall and sighed. He had the distinct feeling he'd said something wrong, but he couldn't figure out what it was. He looked at the bottle in front of him and hoped Tony had an extra bedroom. Or not. The couch looked more comfortable than the space under his boat.

A few minutes later, Gibbs realized Tony had been gone too long. He was on his feet in an instant, and he practically ran down the hall and banged on the bathroom door.

It opened, revealing Tony dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. "Yeah?"

Gibbs actually looked embarrassed. "Sorry, I … "

"Just thought I had gone to off myself?" Tony finished, raising an eyebrow.

"Tony, I … "

"Can't complete a sentence?" Tony finished again, wondering if his boss was drunk and then wondering what the hell he would do with a drunk Gibbs.

Gibbs looked down. On their way to meeting the floor, his eyes flicked over the massive bruise wrapped around Tony's knee. The bruising was as dark as thunderheads, and the joint itself was so swollen Gibbs couldn't even make out the shape of his kneecap. "Aw hell, DiNozzo."

Tony didn't look down. Once was enough for one night. Instead, he said, "You just said 'sorry' to me."

Gibbs looked up from the damaged joint and said, "Guess I did."

"That's the spare bedroom," Tony said, pointing to a door behind his boss. "Make yourself at home."

Gibbs just nodded and turned toward the door.

"Gibbs."

He turned back and saw DiNozzo had pain in his eyes that had nothing to do with the bruises on his body.

"I would never," Tony said. "I'd never do that. Not after Amie. She had time to regret it." He paused, leaning heavily against the doorframe. "So did my mother. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I would … I'd never do that."

"I know, Tony," Gibbs said, turning again. "I know you wouldn't."


	13. Chapter 13

Tony lay awake hours later, unable to get the images of death out of his head. And if that weren't enough, he was dreading going to the Bells' home in the morning. Not going wasn't an option, though. He owed Phil Bell an apology.

And if he wanted to be honest with himself—_ha_—there was another reason that even though his body ached from his head down to the tips of his toes and he was beyond exhausted, he did not want to sleep. _Couldn't sleep._

The thought of awaking screaming from whatever nightmare chose to take center stage and finding Gibbs in his room was just too much. He thought about getting up, but simply moving his leg made nausea overwhelm him so quickly he worried the pizza might reappear like a rock star popping back onstage for an encore.

He glanced at the clock at his bedside. 4 a.m.

He briefly thought about saying screw it all and getting up to punch holes in the walls. He was so tired and yet he felt like he was crawling out of his skin. He really just wanted to scream. Or not. His sleep-deprived state was making his thoughts erratic, and he had no idea what he wanted.

Finally, he gritted his teeth and moved just enough to open the bedside stand and pull out the prescription bottle. He thanked Ducky silently as he dry-swallowed double the recommended dose. _Can't wake up screaming if you can't wake up._

He eyed the rest of the sleeping pills in the bottle and shook his head. He'd meant what he told Gibbs. He wouldn't.

He stared at the ceiling wondering what the people who'd given in to the pain and downed the entire bottle thought at this moment, right before the medication took over and the end began. He wondered how many people got up and ran to the bathroom, fingers down their throat and their thoughts of tomorrow suddenly not so terrifying.

He felt his eyes drift mercifully closed, and he saw Amie, clinging to him, her sweaty hands in his. Everything else melted away and all he saw was the regret and fear in her eyes. Her excruciatingly young eyes morphed into his mother's green ones as his breathing started to even out. He saw her kicking at the air in that long white dress and wondered if her eyes had held the same regret and fear as Amie's had.

At least his dreams wouldn't be bloody, if he dreamed at all.

***

Tony was awakened from a deep, dreamless sleep by the insistent ringing of his landline. He reached over just as it stopped ringing and picked it up, scrolling through the caller ID. He was surprised to see that he had three missed calls. All from Gibbs. _Shit._

The knock on his door made him jump.

"Hell, DiNozzo," he heard Gibbs say and he flinched. "I'm trying to do this the easy way, but you're starting to make me nervous. Don't make me do this the hard way."

The phone started ringing again in Tony's hand and he realized Gibbs didn't know he was awake. He wondered if this was another example of Gibbs knowing what he needed without his having to ask or if the older man was just as uncomfortable in Tony's space as Tony was with him in it.

Tony decided to play along. He answered the phone and it turned out he didn't have to fake the grogginess he felt. He decided to add painkillers and sleeping pills to the list of things never to mix. He wondered if he would have been better off just not sleeping.

Tony realized the call had disconnected as Gibbs said through the door, "I can leave for Lancaster now, and you can go back to sleep."

"Not gonna happen," Tony called back. "Give me a few minutes. I'll be right out."

"Take your time, DiNozzo."

By the time Tony had managed to get cleaned up, put clothes on and hobble to the kitchen, Gibbs' leg was twitching and Tony made a mental note to buy more coffee.

"Sorry, Boss," Tony said, noting that it was already past 10 a.m.

Gibbs didn't respond immediately. He just eyed the black pants under the brace and charcoal sweater and said, "How many sweaters do you own, DiNozzo?"

Tony grinned despite his tiredness. "Enough, I guess."

"I guess it's a good idea," Gibbs mused, taking in the darkness under his agent's bleary eyes. "Don't give Bell any ideas."

Tony's grin faded. "That's not why I ... The man doesn't need to feel guilty about me. He'll have enough to deal with. His wife never believed Scott was dead, remember. And when I apologize—and I am apologizing to him—I'll be reminding him how pissed he was."

Gibbs' tone was all business when he stood and said, "Don't even think about making yourself a target for his anger. Letting him pound the crap out of you isn't going to bring his son back."

"Might make him feel better, though," Tony muttered, eyeing the empty coffeemaker.

"Hey," Gibbs barked.

Tony sighed. "I know, I know." He found the bottle of painkillers and knocked back two of them.

Gibbs found himself thinking that the kid must really be hurting to be taking medication without someone putting a gun to his head. He winced at the metaphor, realizing the agent _had_ had a gun to his head the night before.

Tony watched Gibbs watching him and forced himself not to sigh again. It was going to be a long day. He shoved the thoughts aside. "You want to stop home first?"

Gibbs looked down at his only slightly rumpled appearance. "Nah. It's not like they're going to notice."

Tony suddenly felt ashamed. He couldn't imagine telling people their son was dead when you'd gotten a similar visit about your own wife and child.

Tony pocketed the pill bottle, picked up his keys and moved slowly toward the door. "I need caffeine, sooner or later."

"Sooner, by the look of you," Gibbs said, giving him that creepy concerned look again. The unnerved feeling Tony had didn't get any better when Gibbs asked, "Did you get any sleep?"

"You called me four times to get me up," Tony said, giving him a sidelong glance. "You know the answer to that."

Gibbs just nodded, apparently satisfied with the non-answer.

A stop for coffee and gas later, and they were on their way. After miles of silence, Tony suddenly asked, "Do we know the cause of death? They're going to ask."

Gibbs nodded. "Ducky did the autopsy earlier this morning. Massive internal bleeding consistent with a hell of a beating."

Tony closed his eyes at that, and Gibbs read his thoughts. Gibbs said softly, "No way to sugarcoat that, DiNozzo. Just tell them the truth."

Tony sighed. "Is it too late to take you up on your offer?" He didn't let Gibbs answer. "Never mind. I'm doing this."

Gibbs felt a flare of pride. "You're doing the right thing."

"Remind me of that when this is over," Tony said wearily.

"I will," Gibbs said, glancing over at him. "But I doubt you'll need me to."

"Crap." Tony opened his eyes and went to pull out his cell only to realize the broken pieces of it were probably in an evidence bag somewhere.

Gibbs wordlessly handed his cell over, but Tony caught the glint in his eye. Tony dialed, bracing himself for the freight train that was an upset, worried Abby.

"Gibbs, you promised me next time you called that I could talk to him so he'd better be up this time," she said as soon as the connection was made.

"I am him, Abby," Tony said, smiling.

"Oh, Tony," Abby said.

He waited for more. "That's it?"

"Gibbs told me where you're going this morning. I made him promise that if that man puts one hand on you—"

"Abbs, his son is dead. I doubt beating me senseless will be the first thing on his mind."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately, Tony?" she yelled and he held the phone away from his ear. At least he could hear out of it now that the ringing in his ear had stopped. "He choked you. I could see the pattern of his fingers in the bruising. If you were a corpse, Ducky and I could use the marks on your neck to nail him in court."

"Abby, you're overreacting," he said patiently. "I'm fine. And like you said, Gibbs is with me. He'll have my back."

He saw Gibbs glance at him at that. Tony handed him the phone. "Please?"

Gibbs smiled and nodded. "Abby. Abby, stop. Do you really think I'd let anything happen to him?"

Gibbs listened for a minute and then handed the phone back to Tony.

"See? I'll be fine."

"I know you will," she said. "When's your surgery?"

"How's McGee?" Tony asked, his exhaustion and painkillers blunting the usual stealth of his evasion tactics.

"Better but that's not what I asked." There was steel in the scientist's voice, and Tony thought better of making her any angrier.

"Tuesday morning," he answered quietly.

"Outpatient?" she asked.

"Depends on how long it takes to fix it all," Tony admitted, knowing Gibbs was listening intently. He wondered if it was a ploy the two of them had cooked up. "Should be, though."

"You sound scared, Tony," she said, concern muting her normally bouncy voice. "What is it?"

Tony glanced at Gibbs and said, "Last time, Dr. Brinton told me if I ever did anything to it again, there might not be enough left to put it back together. I don't think I have to tell you that my job is my life, and I don't think I could handle being planted behind a desk for the rest of my days."

The honesty in his voice surprised all three of them. Tony put it down to drugs and exhaustion.

"Positive thoughts, Tony," Abby said. "That was years ago, right? There are all kinds of medical advancements made every day. I mean, they can take muscle from your hamstring and make new ligaments. Or if that doesn't work, they could always use cadaver tissue. It's slightly creepy, but it's totally effective."

"You've been doing some reading?" Tony said, equally touched and amused.

He could hear the smile in her voice. "Knowledge is power."

He smiled, thinking he should tell her just how amazing she was. He just said, "Thanks, Abbs. I feel better already thinking about raiding corpses for spare parts."

She giggled. "Can I come make you dinner tonight?"

"Sure, Abbs. That'd be nice."

He handed the phone back to Gibbs, who gave him a look.

"Hmm?" Tony asked, leaning his head sleepily back against the seat.

"Raiding corpses?"

***

Tony managed not to fall asleep on the way to the Bell farm—barely. But once they pulled into the driveway, he was wide awake.

Gibbs gave him a look before they got out of the car that spoke volumes, and Tony nodded his thanks for the silent support. The funny little ache returned to his chest, and a tiny part of him reminded that needing people only led to more pain down the road. Getting used to a kinder, gentler Gibbs would only make the return to normalcy that much harder. _But it _was_ nice to know he had the support of his mentor_, another part of him thought.

The parts of his mind did agree that it would be so much easier if the Bells just didn't answer the door, as he and Gibbs stood on the stoop. The door opened and Phil Bell just looked at them, their presence telling him everything he needed to know.

Before Tony could open his mouth, the big man said, "I'll get Irene. Come inside before you freeze."

The resignation in the man's voice—and the lack of anger—made Tony's heart ache. He stole a glance at Gibbs as his boss settled into a kitchen chair, noting the older agent's grim countenance. Tony stood in the middle of the combination kitchen and dining room, unwilling to sit after the hours in the car.

Phil returned with his wife in tow. Her face was pale, and Tony wondered what Phil had told her. How do you tell your wife that her child is dead?

"Phil, Irene, I'm so sorry," Tony said, holding the man's eyes. "We found Scott's body."

Irene's face crumbled at the word "body" and she buried her face into Phil's massive chest. He wrapped his arms around her, still meeting Tony's eyes.

"I'm sorry I insinuated that your son was a murderer," Tony said sincerely, watching Phil's lips twitch and a tear run down his face. There was no anger in his expression, and Gibbs stayed quiet, letting Tony talk. "He had evidence that was key to the Marine's murder that we came here about, and he was killed for it. He died doing the job he loved," Tony said, remembering how proud the family had been of Scott and his chosen profession.

Phil nodded. "Thank you, Agent DiNozzo. I know it wasn't easy for you to come up here, but we appreciate it." The man looked at Tony's brace when he said it, but both men knew he meant more. Tony just nodded, bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

"How?" Phil asked, his voice going tight. "How was he killed?"

The bleak look in Tony's eyes told them most of the story. Still, he said, "He was beaten to death. He died from massive internal bleeding." He left out the part about being locked in the freezer and left to finish dying. He hoped the grieving couple would never have to learn that particular detail, and considering there would be no trial, he figured it was possible.

Irene sobbed into her husband's chest, but Phil's eyes were on Tony. Tony held his gaze even though it was tearing his heart out. He wanted to apologize again, but he knew nothing would ever make this family's life right again. Besides, he would be apologizing for himself, and Tony couldn't do that to the heartbroken man.

"Who killed my son?" Phil finally said.

Tony explained briefly, leaving out as much of Watts' sick, twisted glee as he could.

"So where is this woman now?" Irene asked, wiping away the latest of her seemingly endless tears.

Tony exchanged a glance with Gibbs and the older agent nodded. Tony said simply, "She's dead."

The couple exchanged a glance of their own. Irene spoke after a long pause. "You're sure she's dead? She can't hurt anyone anymore?"

Tony nodded and decided to give the woman the full truth, at least about this. "I'm sure," he said. "It's my knife they're pulling out of her chest, well, probably right now," he said, checking his watch. He wasn't sure if he should have been so blunt, but he had seen the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. It was no longer there.

Finally, after an eternity of a few minutes, Irene pulled away and wiped her eyes. She looked at Tony and said, "Thank you for coming to tell us in person. Have you notified Ricky?" Her voice broke on her remaining son's name.

"No, ma'am," Tony said. "We can if you would like us to do so."

She shook her head. "It should come from us. But thank you for the kind offer." She paused, looking around as if she needed to do something so she wouldn't fly apart into a thousand irretrievable pieces. "Would you like some coffee? It's freezing out there."

Tony was about to decline when Gibbs spoke for the first time, accepting the offer. Tony met his eyes and realized that he was allowing the couple to postpone their departure. As long as the agents remained in their kitchen, they could go about being polite hosts and put off taking up their mantles as grieving parents.

Irene smiled a fragile half-smile and set about with the busy work. Phil looked at Tony and said, "Can we talk for a minute?" He glanced in the vicinity of his wife and Gibbs, who had gotten up to offer his assistance. "Privately?"

Tony nodded, a wariness in his eyes that he wasn't sure he felt. He saw Gibbs give the big man a warning glare that spoke volumes without a single word. If Irene hadn't been there, Tony was sure Gibbs would have demanded he join them. Or at least threatened life and limb if the man laid a hand on his agent. For Abby, of course.

Phil led him into a small den off the living room. Tony entered the small room and was glad for the comforting weight of the gun at his hip. He immediately scolded himself for having the thought, though. The man was just a grieving father.

"You wanna have a seat?" Phil asked, looking pointedly at Tony's knee.

The joint was filled with fiery pain from standing, but the agent in Tony declined.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Phil said, sitting heavily in a well-worn easy chair. He sat forward, bracing his arms on his big thighs, and looked up at Tony. "I'm sorry, too, for what happened the last time you were here. I know you're just doing your job. I bet it's not easy, what you do."

Tony let the man talk. The last statement caught him off guard, though. He simply said, "It has its moments."

Phil looked up at that, and Tony wished Gibbs had been there to headslap him before he said anything else stupid. But while Tony was thinking about the family members and loved ones he'd reunited with grateful families, Phil was obviously thinking about something else.

"I asked to talk to you—away from Irene—because I need to know what it felt like to kill her."


	14. Chapter 14

"Agent Gibbs?" Irene asked, watching the coffee pot and wringing her hands.

"It's Jethro, please," Gibbs said, trying not to think about how the poor woman would react when the door was closed behind the agents.

She smiled—or tried to. It came across broken. "Jethro, I was wondering … " She suddenly looked nervous and glanced the way her husband had left with DiNozzo. It immediately put Gibbs on alert, but he didn't hear raised voices so he concentrated on the distraught woman beside him.

"Just ask. Anything you need."

She shook her head. "No, it's not … I was just wondering … Agent DiNozzo's … injuries … I hope that my husband didn't cause all of them. I mean, I was here when he … well … and I don't remember Phil punching him, but his mouth … those bruises—"

Gibbs finally stopped her rambling. "Agent DiNozzo was injured apprehending a suspect in another case. The lip, the knee, the ribs, they're all from that separate incident."

"Ribs, too? My, my. The poor dear." She pondered that for a minute. "I guess I'm not surprised. He's obviously a remarkable young man. My Phil is a big boy, but your agent stood in the face of his rage like it was nothing."

Gibbs smiled, but it faded quickly. It wasn't the first time DiNozzo had been reckless with his own safety, and that bothered him. Irene's description also called up thoughts of a young Tony facing down his drunken, abusive father, and that image made Gibbs shudder.

He realized the woman was still talking and forced his attention to her.

"—and he didn't even fight back, even with Phil … _choking _… him like that. And the younger agent was so angry that he wouldn't let him arrest my Phil. I don't know why Agent DiNozzo didn't press the issue, even though he had every right to. I saw the bruises at his throat, even if he tried to hide them. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that he didn't let that agent arrest Phil."

"Don't tell me," Gibbs said, not unkindly. "Tell him."

***

Tony didn't know what to say. He did know what _not_ to say, though. Admitting he felt nothing would require a long explanation he wasn't willing—or even able—to give, and it wasn't what the man wanted or needed to hear.

"Never mind," Phil said, reading Tony's hesitation as discomfort. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Tony thought for another long moment. "I feel like I owe you an answer. After what I insinuated before."

Phil shook his head and stood. He put a hand on Tony's arm. "If anything, I owe you for not letting your partner arrest me. You have every right to press charges after what I did to you."

"Don't worry about it," Tony said sincerely. "It was just a reaction. No harm, no foul."

Phil harrumphed. "That sweater says otherwise, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony gave him the best version of his usual mega-watt smile that he could considering the stabbing pain in his knee that was getting harder to ignore. "Maybe I just like sweaters."

Phil smiled, but there was little happiness in it. Tony knew his thoughts were with his dead son, and as he turned to hobble out the door, he stopped.

"I knew the second I saw where my knife ended up that she was dying. She asked me why she deserved to die. I told her it was because your son didn't. I meant that. Scott was a good person, and I just wish I had gotten to know him better. And I wish I could tell you that everything felt right after I killed her, but I knew it wouldn't bring your son back. I wish it would have. I'm so sorry."

***

Tony hobbled out to the car with Gibbs at his elbow. Leave it to his boss to know when he was struggling—emotionally and physically. Tony just felt spent. He had almost lost it when Irene softly thanked him for not arresting her husband and added a sincere, "Thank you for bringing my son home."

Tony gave Gibbs a quizzical look when the older agent opened the back door of the car.

"Sit sideways," he said gruffly. "It'll support your leg better."

Tony was too tired to argue even though he felt silly. He sat and scooted back across the seat, his leg extended in front of him. He laid his head against the back of the seat while Gibbs stowed the crutches on the floor beside him. He blinked sleepily and silently admitted that this was more comfortable, if anything could be called comfortable in his condition.

Gibbs was driving again, and Tony checked his watch. It was just after 1 p.m.

_On Saturday?_

"It's Saturday," he said, not realizing he'd said it aloud until he saw Gibbs give him a concerned look in the rearview mirror. When his boss didn't reply, Tony said, "Ducky did the autopsy this morning?" He smiled softly. "Of course he came in to do it: Ducky wouldn't leave them suffering, wondering what had happened to him."

Gibbs nodded, but he was thinking something else. _He came in on a Saturday to spare you a second phone call to the grieving parents, too. We all know you wouldn't let anyone else make that call. _It was so very DiNozzo to think of everyone else's pain first. Gibbs wondered if Tony would ever understand that Ducky had been being kind to him, too. He thought about the look that had crossed the young man's face when Gibbs had tried to offer comforting words that he would never be a drunk like his father, and it reminded him of just how deeply scarred Tony was.

Gibbs glanced in the mirror again, not having to try to read the clear agony on his agent's face. He noticed DiNozzo's eyes were open and staring at him.

DiNozzo read Gibbs' silence as a question and answered, "He wanted to know what it felt like to kill her." He huffed out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a groan. "Don't worry, I didn't tell him I felt nothing. He probably would have hit me."

Gibbs was silent, letting him talk.

"I don't even know exactly what I said, but it seemed like the right thing. Or at least enough of the right things. He _thanked_ me, Gibbs." Tony's tone was incredulous. "I come to tell him his son is dead and he _thanks _me."

"You could have had him arrested and you didn't. You found his son and killed his murderer. You deserve his thanks, DiNozzo."

DiNozzo just sighed and leaned his head back against the window, eyes closed in pain. Gibbs couldn't help but think just how vulnerable his normally unshakable agent looked in that moment.

Gibbs drove, stealing glances in the mirror and feeling extremely relieved when he saw that DiNozzo had fallen asleep—or passed out. He smiled a little when he heard Tony's voice in his head: _DiNozzos do not pass out._

"But they sure do sleep soundly," Gibbs murmured when the car in front of him checked up and he quickly swerved around it. There was not a peep from the backseat.

***

"That was amazing, Abbs," Tony said from his couch later that night. The dinner she had made had been delicious, and she was finishing up the dishes.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said, wiping her hands on a towel before joining Tony on the couch. She drew her knees up and felt the buttery softness of the leather under her bare feet. Laying her head on his shoulder, she asked, "How are you feeling? You were totally out when I got here."

Truthfully, Tony barely remembered getting home. He did remember Gibbs stopping and shoving a water bottle and pills into his hands at some point on the ride home. He remembered Gibbs hauling him bodily out of the backseat, but then everything was a blur until Gibbs set the cordless phone beside him and forced a promise out of him that he would call if he needed anything before Abby got there. Tony was pretty sure he'd kept his promise. He couldn't have really needed anything if he couldn't remember the interlude between the door closing on Gibbs and opening for Abby, right?

Tony was sure that he had a much better understanding of the term "punch-drunk," at least.

"That good, huh?" Abby teased, and he realized he hadn't answered her question.

"It hurts like hell, Abbs," he said, unafraid to be truthful with her. _Or is it afraid to be untruthful? _He didn't want to think about the consequences of lying to the scientist. "I haven't been in this much pain since … well, last time."

"Remember what I said. Positive thoughts," she admonished gently, sitting up and looking into his green eyes. "Everything is going to be fine." She laid her head back on his shoulder, careful not to put her weight on his damaged ribs.

They were quiet, and he drew strength from her presence.

Finally, she said, "Come on. Let's get you to bed so you can get some real sleep."

He groaned, the thought of getting up and moving the short distance to his room making him nauseous. "I'm actually more comfortable here."

She sat back, taking in his slouched posture and the leg propped up on the coffee table. "Not like that, you're not."

He let her settle him in and even let her pick the movie. She put one in and went to curl up in the big comfy chair, but he motioned her over, and she stretched out at his side, her small frame barely taking up any room. She lay with her head in the crook of his shoulder like a lover, but the position was somehow natural for them and there were no sexual overtones to the otherwise intimate positioning of their bodies. She couldn't see the TV, but she didn't care. She knew she would be asleep within minutes even though it wasn't even remotely late by her standards. There was just something about the man lying next to her that grounded her. His solid strength was an overwhelmingly comfortingly foil to her usually frenetic, flighty personality.

He fell asleep to the hypnotic whisper of her steady breathing on his neck. She drifted off, feeling safe and warm under the soothing weight of the arm he had draped around her.


	15. Chapter 15

It was 4:30 a.m. and Abby was restless. She wandered around the darkened apartment, occasionally stealing glances at the man sleeping on the black leather sofa. Abby realized as she ran a hand across the dark wood of a tall bookshelf that there was a lot of black in the decor. She liked it, even though it was dark in a sleek and sophisticated way as opposed to the soothingly cavelike darkness of her own home.

Abby smiled softly in the moonlight spilling through sheer black curtains, realizing that the only color in the room came from the hundreds of DVD cases and hardback books lining the shelves.

She examined the book titles, having watched most of the movies with Tony at one time or another. She was surprised to find every book Dean Koontz had ever written. She wouldn't have been as surprised to find the sci-fi titles at McGee's place, but the supernatural bent of the books in Tony's home left her wondering if she really knew her friend. _If anyone knew him..._

She ran light fingers over the novels of John Grisham, Greg Iles, Nicholas Evans and more. She smiled at Pat Conroy's _The Prince of Tides_ and raised eyebrows at Wally Lamb's _I Know This Much Is True._ She glanced back at Tony, who was sleeping soundly thanks to a slightly higher than recommended dose of painkillers. She took in the peaceful expression on his face and hoped the medication would keep the nightmares she knew he suffered from at bay. She had stayed the night here enough times to know what the bad ones did to him.

She pulled the Conroy novel from the shelf and glanced at the couch again when she noticed something stuck between the pages of the beautifully sweeping, epic, tragic novel. Her host did not stir as she pulled the worn photograph from the book. The green eyes of the woman smiling up at her instantly told her she was holding a picture of Tony's mother. With trembling hands, she turned the photo over and read the delicate, fading script on the back.

_Please be strong, my little prince,  
And know this was never about you._

Abby gasped at the horrible sentiment but quickly clamped a hand over her mouth so as not to wake her friend. What kind of woman would put that kind of burden on the shoulders of her own son? Abby suddenly understood Tony's driving need to be the picture of strength no matter the circumstances. Her heart broke as she imagined a young Tony holding this photo and struggling to keep it together because he knew she wanted him to.

Abby's rage ratcheted up a notch at the second part, even though the woman could have meant for it to be comforting. It didn't come across that way, though, and it seemed as if she was saying her son didn't even figure into her decision to leave him behind.

Abby replaced the photo between the pages of the book and set the novel back on the shelf. She turned back to her friend and marveled at the man he'd become despite his horrific childhood. She thought about rejoining him on the couch but decided against it, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep. She didn't want to wake him so she selected a book from the shelves and settled into the big, comfortable chair beside the couch.

Abby read for hours, turning off the lamp beside her when sunlight began streaming through the windows. Tony barely moved all night, but once the room lightened, he began shifting restlessly in his sleep. Abby was about to wake him and dose him again when his eyes popped open and he gasped loudly.

Thinking he was in pain, she said, "Hold tight, Tony. I'll get—"

"Davey," he said, and she stopped and stared at him, confusion furrowing her brow.

"Who?"

"Where's Davey?" Tony asked, but he was not speaking to her.

Abby wondered what doozy of a nightmare had brought this tracelike expression to her friend's face. She went and sat beside his as he was struggling to get up. She laid a hand on his chest and spoke his name firmly. "Who's Davey?"

Tony blinked as though surprised to see her. The haunted quality left his voice, and Abby was deliriously glad that he sounded like himself again when he asked, "What time is it? I've gotta call Gibbs. Watts didn't kill Bell alone. She called her accomplice 'Davey,' and we need to find him."

Understanding dawned on Abby, and she wordlessly handed Tony the phone. Tony dialed Gibbs' cell, his uninjured leg bouncing with frustration until he heard his boss's voice.

Tony told Gibbs in a breathless rush what Watts had revealed to him about her accomplice, ending with, "We have to find him, Boss."

Gibbs took him completely by surprise with his response. "Settle down, DiNozzo, before you stroke out on me. You really don't know the meaning of taking it easy, do you?"

"There could be a murderer out there, Gibbs," Tony responded, ignoring the question. "We have to find him. I'll have Abby bring me down to—"

Gibbs cut him off. "It's Sunday and you're scheduled for surgery in two days, DiNozzo. Stay the hell home." He paused, regretting the harshness of his words. He knew how much Tony hated having what he perceived as weakness thrown in his face. He softened his tone and said, "Listen, we've got nothing but a name. I'll get Ziva in, and we'll handle this. You just get some rest."

Tony bit back everything he really wanted to say. He settled for, "Thanks for benching me, Boss. When I go nuts from sitting here doing nothing, I'll be sure to thank you again."

Gibbs thought he heard hurt under the sarcasm lacing his agent's voice. "Is Abby still there?"

Tony handed her the phone without a word and pulled himself upright. Abby was pretty sure it was the first time she'd ever seen someone stalk out of a room on crutches.

"What the hell did you say to him?" she demanded.

"I'm not having this conversation with you, too, Abby," Gibbs said. "He's not coming in to watch me and Ziva go through phone records and interview everyone in this building named Dave. There's not much we can do, and he needs to take it easy."

Abby silently agreed, but she knew it wouldn't be easy getting Tony to agree, too. "I'll stay here and make sure he stays put."

"Thank you, Abbs," Gibbs said, grateful the scientist was there. "It's going to be hard enough to find this guy without having to babysit my agent."

Abby made a rude sound. "No wonder he's pissed, Gibbs, if that's the way you expressed your concern for his well-being."

Gibbs sighed. "Abby, you know what I mean."

"And you know how he'd take something like that," she returned. She thought about the photo hidden in the book. "He's Tony, for god's sake; of course he thinks he needs to be the one to find this guy."

Gibbs nodded even though she couldn't see him. "Take care of him for me, Abbs? Please?"

She smiled at that word. "You know I will."

***

Tony spent the day alternately watching football and wondering what Gibbs and Ziva were doing while Abby finished the book she had started. She set it aside with a yawn after reading the last page.

"You don't have to stay," Tony said, watching her with an intensity she wasn't used to seeing his green eyes.

Perplexed by the look, she said slowly, "I want to stay." She realized she was frowning and put on a smile. "You're going to be seeing a lot of me, anyway. I'm officially appointing myself your caretaker for the week."

She saw something like terror flit across his face just before his cheeks went red with embarrassment. "You don't have to do that, Abby. I'll be fine."

"You shouldn't be alone," she protested.

"My head's fine, Abby, I don't need— How's McGee?" he asked suddenly, ashamed he had forgotten about his partner.

"I talked to him this morning while you were sleeping. He's much better. He went home today, and his sister is staying with him so—" she stopped, giving him a look. "Don't change the subject."

He gave her a little smile. "Thanks, Abbs." She was surprised to see that his eyes were unusually bright. "I really appreciate that you care so much about me."

She was about to respond when the door was suddenly kicked in. Tony's agent instincts kicked in, too, and beat out his body's pain sensors in a split-second war as he jumped up and threw himself at the black-clad, masked man who suddenly appeared. DiNozzo shouted at Abby to run as the man easily overpowered him, knees on his chest, and the agent found himself staring down the barrel of a gun for the second time in as many days. _Shit._

"You move and I'll put one between his eyes," the man growled, effectively rooting Abby to the floor where she stood. She made a little whimpering sound, and as the intruder turned his head toward her, Tony bucked beneath the large body pinning him to floor, throwing the man to the side. DiNozzo lunged for the gun that had fallen from the assailant's hand and wrapped his hand around the grip. He brought it up just as the intruder brought a heavy lamp down. DiNozzo heard the crisp snap of the bone breaking in his hand before he felt the pain of the blow. The gun clattered from his grip and was snatched up by the intruder.

Abby ran down the hall, scattering books from the shelf in her wake. Tony struggled to stand, but by the time he'd worked his way to all fours, the man had dragged Abby back into the room by her dark hair. She was bent over slightly, her hands near his, trying to keep him from ripping the hair out by the roots. She looked up and Tony saw black streaks on her cheeks, and fear and pain in her eyes.

It was the pain he saw there that forced him to his feet with a cry of pure rage, and he took a staggering step toward the intruder.

The man pulled Abby upright and put the gun to her head. That stopped DiNozzo dead in his tracks. He looked into the eyes of the man holding a gun on Abby and searched his memory, trying to place those eyes.

"Try that again, and I'll kill her in front of you."

The rapid panting of the man almost obscured the emotion in those words. Tony paled. "Davey?"


	16. Chapter 16

"And then I let him take her," Tony said, shaking so hard his teeth rattled. "I think … he thinks Abby and I are… and I killed Watts so he thinks if he …" Tony's breath caught in his throat and he couldn't finish the sentence.

Warring concerns battled for Gibbs' attention: A killer had Abby, and his agent hadn't taken a normal breath since he called. Unable to think about Abby for the moment, he looked over his agent. Tony was still on the floor and had been since Gibbs had arrived through the ruined door. Gibbs could see the beginnings of a black eye emerging on Tony's tired face.

"I can't tell you anything, Gibbs," Tony said, looking up with an agony of guilt in his eyes. "Big build, dark eyes." Tony looked down at his hands, which he had had clamped together since Gibbs arrived.

"I didn't leave a mark on him," Tony said, his disgust overriding his fear for a moment. "Didn't get in one good hit."

Gibbs took a breath and found it was nearly as shaky as his shell-shocked agent's. "Listen to me, Tony, because I'm only going to say this once. You were not on protection detail. You're hurt. You were at home, for god's sake, off duty. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault."

"I let him take her," Tony said again, almost to himself. "Why did I let him take her?"

"You didn't have a choice, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, knowing with everything in him that it was true. There was no way his agent would just let the man take Abby if he didn't honestly believe he would shoot her.

"I could have…" DiNozzo couldn't finish the thought because he couldn't think of one thing he could have done that wouldn't have gotten Abby killed.

"And he would have shot her," Gibbs said. He leveled a look at his agent, who was still sitting on the floor. "Or you."

"So?" came Tony's immediate response. He looked up at Gibbs and there was a bleakness in his eyes that took Gibbs' breath. "At least if he shot me, someone might have heard and come to help."

"Shut up, DiNozzo," Gibbs said roughly, his concern coming out as anger. "I don't ever want to hear that crap from you again, you got it?"

That his harshness didn't seem to affect his agent wasn't lost on Gibbs. Tony simply nodded.

Gibbs said, firmly, "We will find her."

"We're going to find her," Tony repeated, trying to ignore Gibbs' anger. But the harsh words had gotten to him. and the words came out like a plea.

"Yes," Gibbs said, nodding. "We will find her. And I need you to be all here so that we can do that, okay?"

Tony nodded, then gave his head a hard shake, clearing the pain and guilt and fear as best he could. He had a job to do. "I'm here, Boss."

Gibbs reached down and grabbed Tony's hands to pull the agent to his feet. He felt the broken bone in the right hand shift under his grasp and yelled, "Shit, DiNozzo! Is that a broken _bone?"_

On his feet, Tony just shrugged. "It's not an important one. I'll be fine." Seeing the grimace still on Gibbs' face and reading his thoughts, Tony said, "We've got bigger worries."

Gibbs was about to protest still, but Tony just said, "He was wearing gloves so there's no use dusting for prints. I'll go talk to the building manager and get security tapes. Did you and Ziva get anywhere on the phone records?"

"Watts called a burn phone a couple times since arriving in the District," Gibbs said, following DiNozzo to the door. He saw Tony leaning toward his left and was glad the break was in his agent's right hand. "It's a dead end."

DiNozzo hobbled down the hallway while Gibbs pulled what was left of the door shut. "Hey, DiNozzo?" he called, gesturing toward the door.

Tony didn't stop. "I really don't care, Gibbs. Leave it."

***

The team gathered in the squad room as the clock ticked its way toward midnight. Tony and Gibbs hadn't found anything on the security footage, and McGee and Ziva hadn't gotten anywhere on the financial trail.

"There are some charges at a few bars the night she arrived, including Kenny's Tavern," McGee said, naming a hangout popular with law enforcement.

"She said she gave her number out to get men to call her so we'd believe it was her family," Tony said, leaning against his desk, unconsciously cradling his injured hand against his chest. He registered no pain—only fear for Abby. He couldn't get the look in her eyes out of his head.

There was a silence and Tony studied McGee, trying to see if he was actually feeling better or faking it. All he saw—on everyone's faces—was fear for Abby. Even Ziva looked thoroughly wrung out with frustration and worry.

"Any luck with the Daves?" Tony asked, refusing to believe they had _nothing._

Gibbs spoke and the entire group heard the impossible fear in his voice. "We've been through half of them. We'll spend the rest of the night going through the rest. Ziva, start getting them in here again. DiNozzo, I want you in the room with all of them. You've seen this guy."

Tony tried not to take that as a barb. He failed. The guilt washed over him again and he thought for a horrifying second that he was going to puke. Instead, he said, "Ziva, call the ones you've already had in here. Ask them to come back."

The team looked at him like he had sprouted a second head. He said, "He has her. If any of them balk, we'll know to look deeper. I want all of their files—with photos."

Gibbs allowed DiNozzo to take the lead because he could practically see the weight of the guilt pressing down on the senior agent's shoulders.

Tony checked his watch and cursed. "We should be interviewing bartenders, seeing if they remember Watts being with anyone. No one will be open this late on a Sunday."

"I can try to hack payroll systems," McGee said, his voice strong despite the lingering dizziness he felt. He concentrated on the mechanics of doing just that so he didn't have to think about Abby in the clutches of some monster. It would be too much. "Ziva and I can track them down."

Gibbs nodded, figuring he'd deal with the fallout later. This was Abby they were trying to find. "Do it. DiNozzo, you're with me."

Tony nodded and made his slow way to interrogation, where David Sutton waited. He was a mail clerk, and he was none too happy about being held for so long. Tony dismissed him immediately because his eyes were a blue so light they were almost translucent.

Tony picked through the files and set aside the most likely candidates. They interviewed angry employee after angry employee until dawn.

DiNozzo sat across from David Reacher at about 5 a.m. and cursed the commonness of the first name. He tried desperately to focus on the highly agitated man in front of him and not on what could be happening to Abby at the moment. He forced his thoughts away before the waves of despair crushed him.

"You're hiding something, Reacher," DiNozzo all but snarled, "and I am not in the mood for your bullshit."

Gibbs leaned against the two-way glass and watched his agent struggle against his rage, but they both knew Reacher was nervous as hell. Gibbs didn't allow himself the luxury of hope that they were getting somewhere. He couldn't even think about Abby or he knew he would fall apart. That wouldn't help his team any, and it sure as hell wouldn't help Abby. They had a job to do.

The man stammered out a denial, and DiNozzo slammed his hands down on the table with a force that made Gibbs wince. DiNozzo's voice was deadly calm when he slid the photo of Abby across the table. "Tell me where she is."

The guy laughed a nervous little laugh and even Gibbs wasn't fast enough to stop DiNozzo, who was around the table and hauling Reacher to his feet in an instant. DiNozzo was pinning the stunned man against the wall and about to punch him when Gibbs pulled the agent off.

"Out!" Gibbs yelled at his agent, whose eyes were so dark with rage they looked almost black in the bright lights of the interrogation room. DiNozzo obeyed, knowing he'd kill Reacher if the man laughed again when Abby was out there somewhere.

"I've been stealing gas," Reacher cried. "Filling my car from company pumps. I've never seen her!"

Gibbs made a sound of disgust and left the small room. Reacher could stay in there all night for all he cared. Gibbs made his way down the hallway and found DiNozzo slumped against the wall by the stairs. From the man's ragged breathing, Gibbs thought he was crying.

But there was nothing but boiling rage in his eyes when he looked up. Gibbs realized that DiNozzo probably hadn't ended up on the floor on purpose.

"Caught ourselves a gas thief," Gibbs said, hauling his agent to his feet, grabbing him by the wrists this time. "Breathe, DiNozzo. Before you hyperventilate."

Tony released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Good," Gibbs said, even though the agent's breathing wasn't anywhere near normal. Gibbs doubted his own was, either. The fear was crushing his chest, and he couldn't think of a single thing to do to find Abby. All technological avenues had been exhausted since Abby's phone was still at Tony's apartment and the burn phone was no longer providing a signal to trace or track by GPS.

"McGee and Ziva haven't gotten anywhere yet," Gibbs said. "Come on. I'm taking you home."

DiNozzo just stared at him, taking the suggestion as Gibbs admitting defeat. "But—"

"Don't argue, DiNozzo," Gibbs snapped. "We'll go over the scene again. See if you remember something else or we find something. We can't do anything here, and I'm not just going to sit here while some bastard has Abby." His voice rose until he was practically screaming in his agent's face. "I mean, you got a better idea? Besides kicking down every damned door in the District until we find her?"

***

Tony was silent until they walked back through his damaged door. He cursed loudly as he almost tripped over a piece of splintered wood. It was the only word spoken between the two since Gibbs' outburst.

Gibbs' hand snaked out and grabbed DiNozzo by the elbow to steady him. Their eyes met for a brief second before DiNozzo looked away, shaking with the effort it took to not start screaming and never stop.

Gibbs scrubbed his hands over his face and took in the state of Tony's apartment again. His eyes landed on the broken lamp on the floor. He suddenly matched the shape of its base with the curved bruise forming on the back of DiNozzo's hand. He swore, his fear for Abby mingling with the guilt he felt at having screamed at Tony earlier. He stole a glance at the pale, injured agent and wondered what was keeping him upright. He realized it was the same thing driving him.

"Why did he take her?" Tony asked softly, kicking lightly at the broken lamp at which Gibbs was staring so intently. The pain had yet to register in his broken hand. It spoke volumes about his boss's mental state that the older man hadn't once insisted that Tony get it looked at. "If he thought we were together and was doing it for revenge for me killing Watts, why wouldn't he kill her here?"

Gibbs was at a loss. He couldn't answer the question, couldn't think, could barely breathe. He needed to do something so he went to the scattered books on the floor. He started to pick them up, but Tony said, "Don't."

Gibbs looked up. "Leaving them here to torture yourself isn't going to help."

"No, Gibbs," Tony said, making his slow way over to where Gibbs crouched. He looked at the titles and smiled. "The books. When she whimpered. And then she threw them on the floor and ran."

Gibbs stood. "You're not making any sense, DiNozzo."

Tony shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts into something coherent. "I tackled the guy, but he was on top of me in a second," he said, guilt twisting his features. "She was standing by the bookcase and she made this little sound. I thought she was scared, but it distracted the guy so I threw him off me and went for the gun. She tossed the books and ran."

Gibbs looked from the broken lamp to DiNozzo's swollen hand and knew what he was leaving out, but he nodded, encouraging his agent to go on.

"She was trying to get my attention. She recognized the guy somehow and was telling me who he is without saying it. She probably figured he'd shoot us both if she just told me. The books are hints at his identity … and I missed it."

Gibbs studied the titles and looked at DiNozzo again, ready to choke the agent and immediately feeling guilty about it. The man still had fingerprints ringing his neck.

"_Bartenders' Little Black Book. Police Policy and Procedure. _A book of pick-up lines that she gave me as a joke. Davey is a bartender at Kenny's Tavern, where we all go for drinks. It's practically an NCIS annex. I should have recognized him myself."

Gibbs was on the phone in an instant, making rapid-fire phone calls ordering McGee to get an address for the bartender, coordinating with local police and finally calling Ducky to have him meet them at the house Davey shared with another bartender.

Gibbs hung up the phone and went to the door. He looked back at DiNozzo, who was staring at the bookcase. "You coming or do I have to carry you, DiNozzo?"

Tony blinked in shock. He moved for the door. "Thanks, Boss," he said quietly.

Gibbs shut the ruined door again. "You're staying in the damned car."

"I know, Boss," Tony said, hurrying to keep up with Gibbs' frenetic pace.


	17. Chapter 17

"Guess we know who the brains of the operation was," McGee said, crouching behind a car outside the tiny house. "Who the hell kidnaps someone and takes them back to their own house?"

Ziva spoke without thinking, "Someone who does not care if he gets caught."

McGee gave her a look that could curdle milk. He was terrified that there would be only a body on the other side of that door. He sure as hell didn't need Ziva backing up his thoughts.

"I am sorry, McGee," Ziva said. "She will be all right."

"You don't know that, Ziva," McGee hissed, watching the house and looking for some sign that Abby was in there—and alive. He pushed the thoughts away. He had a job to do.

"We're not doing anything," Ziva complained, contradicting McGee's thoughts.

McGee sighed. Ziva was right. "It's better to let SWAT handle it. Especially since Gibbs agrees with letting them take the lead."

"It does not make any sense," Ziva huffed. "When has Gibbs ever let someone else handle it? Whatever 'it' may be? Gibbs does not pass off responsibility."

They were quiet, watching the SWAT officers get into position. From radio chatter, they knew there were two confirmed "subjects" in the house.

Neither could put voice to the answer to Ziva's question. Thinking it was one thing, but actually saying that Gibbs was afraid to take the lead on Abby's rescue made it too real—too wrong. They both knew that since Davey had taken Abby back to his own home, there would be no negotiating on this cold, rainy morning.

"They're trained for this exact situation," McGee said, not sure of whom he was reassuring. "They'll get her out."

***

Tony sat in the dark blue Charger and watched the skies darkened by clouds and rain. He couldn't look at the house where Abby could be dying—or dead—at this very moment. He saw McGee and Ziva crouched behind a car, unable to do anything but watch. They were talking and Tony didn't have to guess at their conversation. He had been stunned when Gibbs handed over the reins to SWAT, but he had also understood. It was the same reason DiNozzo wasn't fighting Gibbs' order to stay in the car.

He knew as well as he had known in his apartment the previous evening that it was best if he did nothing. Injured and exhausted, he would be only a hindrance to the tactical team surrounding the house. He would stay; he would do nothing.

It did not mean that he liked it.

***

"Where is Gibbs, anyway?" Ziva asked as she and McGee drew their weapons, watching the SWAT team about to storm the small house. They both doubted they'd be shooting anyone—not with a SWAT team armed to the teeth on site—but the familiar weight of the weapons soothed them both.

"Last I saw, he was talking the SWAT commander," McGee said, wondering just when the gun in his hand had become a comfort and not a thing to be feared.

Ziva glanced around, but she didn't see their leader. She and McGee were silent as action erupted around them: The SWAT team had entered the house, and the quiet Monday morning dreariness was replaced by shouts and gunfire.

***

One second Tony was sitting in the car, trying not to react to the gunfire. He failed. He felt every sharp report like a knife in the belly.

He wasn't aware of the exact moment he defied Gibbs' order and got out of the car, but he found himself running, hobbling, stumbling toward the dumpy little house. He may have been screaming; he probably would never know for certain.

His unsteady, panicked flight was stopped cold by the sudden sight before him. A black-clad team member had emerged from the front door, carrying a limp body in his arms. Tony immediately recognized Abby's pale arm hanging lifelessly, covered in blood. Tony couldn't force himself the final ten yards to meet them.

He just stared as the black-clad man suddenly fell to his knees and pulled the helmet off.

Icy-blue eyes met his green ones, and Tony choked out, "No, Gibbs, please no."


	18. Chapter 18

Tony felt warm hands on his wet shoulders as the waiting medical team swarmed around Abby and Gibbs. The gentle hands pulled him away, and Tony let them. He was too tired, too hurt, too wrung out to fight. Tony felt an arm go around his waist, and he realized he'd lost the crutches somewhere. He felt himself being helped away and settled against the wet hood of a car.

He looked up and found Ducky's gentle eyes staring back at him with concern. _Who cares about me? _Tony thought wildly. _Abby ... Care about Abby!_

"Anthony, you're not listening to me," Ducky said, taking hold of Tony's shoulders again.

_You were talking? Why are we talking? Why aren't you helping Abby?_

"It's not her blood, Anthony," Ducky was saying. "Do you understand? Are you listening to me? It's not Abby's blood."

_Not Abby's? So she's... ?_

Ducky was suddenly nodding, and he was smiling, but there was still concern in his eyes. Tony realized the concern was for him, too, because he hadn't said a word out loud.

He finally found his voice and whispered, "She's not hurt?"

"She was standing next to Davey when the SWAT team shot him. It's not her blood. They're taking her to the hospital to get checked out, but once she recovers from the shock of it all, I think she'll be just fine."

Tony didn't speak. He wasn't sure if he could. He didn't see McGee or Gibbs or Ziva anywhere, and the SWAT team had mostly packed up and left. He wondered how long Ducky had been trying to break through his haze.

He saw Ducky frowning at him and figured he'd missed something the doctor had said. "Huh? I'm sorry, Ducky. I feel ..."

"Out of sorts?" Ducky supplied, his eye catching the bruise on the back of Tony's hand. He reached out and gently took hold of the damaged limb. "That's not unreasonable. To say it has been a long week would be an extreme understatement."

Tony flinched as Ducky's fingers found the broken bone in his hand.

"I'm very sorry, Anthony," the doctor said, pulling the agent to his feet. "Let's get you to the hospital. I'm sure you'd like to see Abby."

Tony almost smiled at the doctor's ploy. He knew he wasn't getting out of having his hand x-rayed, but he really didn't care. Abby was going to be okay and that was all that mattered.

Ducky helped him back to the car and chattered nonstop on the way to the hospital about a broken hand and a rugby match. Even in Tony's dazed, exhausted, guilt-ridden state, he was paying enough attention to realize the hand hadn't been broken during the match but at the after party. He smiled a little at the thought of a drunken college-aged Ducky, but the smile faded. One word resounded in his head.

_Broken._

It was a simple, short word, but it held so much meaning, so many meanings. Drop a teacup, and it ends up broken on the floor. Drop a body off a roof, and it ends up broken on the pavement below. He had never considered himself broken, but the things he had seen in his lifetime, that he'd lived through…

_Will Abby be broken by this?_ He thought, not realizing Ducky had stopped speaking and was alternately watching the road and stealing concerned glances at him. _Of course, not. Abby's strong. She's resilient, and she'll be fine. Right?_

_Wrong. You let her down. You allowed her to be taken from your own home. Dragged out at gunpoint by a maniac. You have no idea what he did to her. Even if she is fine, that doesn't mean she won't hate you. And she has every right to hate you. You're worthless. Pathetic. _

"Anthony!"

Tony looked up and realized his breathing was erratic and he had the door handle in a death grip. The pain of the broken bone in that hand was suddenly, finally, intensely there.

"I'm sorry, Ducky," he said quietly.

The look Ducky gave him was one of such gentle concern that it brought tears to his eyes. Tony looked away. He didn't deserve the kindness.

"What is going through that head of yours, Anthony?" Ducky asked softly, hoping the directness of the question wouldn't send the agent fleeing behind a mask of stone—or worse, of feigned humor.

Tony didn't respond. He looked around the ER parking lot and wondered when they'd gotten there, how long they'd been there. He felt like a worthless drunk, losing time and unable to maintain a conversation. He knew he was shaking and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Anthony," Ducky began again, laying a warm hand on Tony's rain-soaked sleeve. The doctor could feel the tremors running through the man beside him, but he didn't need them to know that the agent was about to shatter. "You mustn't be so hard on yourself, my boy. Abigail will be fine, and I rather doubt that she will feel anything but concern for you if you show up at her bedside looking as dreadful as you do. She is an extremely resilient young woman, and I imagine she will be angry with you for thinking anything to the contrary."

Realizing the doctor had voiced his own thoughts, Tony said softly, "I know she's tough as nails." He paused, drawing a shaky breath. "She shouldn't have to be."

"And you should?" the doctor asked, putting a hand on Tony's face and making the younger man look at him. The pain and guilt—the brokenness—that he saw in those green depths made his chest ache.

Ducky saw Tony blink and launch himself out of the car with a suddenness the doctor knew he shouldn't have been able to accomplish, considering his injuries. Ducky watched him stagger across the lot, only to have his knee give out. The doctor got out of the car and went to where the agent had landed in a heap. Ducky wasn't sure if it was rain or tears on his cheeks, but he was surprised when Tony looked up at him and laughed.

"Anthony—"

"Sorry, Ducky," Tony said, pain warring with amusement in his voice. "I'm so fucked up. And I just dropped an f-bomb on someone old enough to be my grandfather. And now I'm calling you old." Tony shook his head and tried to get up. He couldn't.

"I _am_ old, Anthony," Ducky said, smiling. He reached down and hauled the agent to his feet.

As soon as Tony was standing and facing the hospital's entrance, he started to shake again and it had nothing to do with the cold wetness of the rain drenching every inch of him.

"I can't go in there," he said, unable to meet the doctor's eyes.

He was surprised by the force with which Ducky said, "You _are_ going in there, Anthony. Your hand is broken and you need to have it splinted."

"It's not the first time, Ducky. I really don't care," Tony said in a voice completely devoid of emotion.

Ducky opened his mouth to protest, but Tony cut off him, surprising them both with his sudden anger. His tone was ugly as he spat, "He stomped on this same hand, broke half the bones in it because I couldn't name everyone on his board. He just stood there, waiting, while I tried not to scream and tried to remember names of men who meant nothing to me and everything to him. All the J. Foster Penningtons and other suited morons were more important than me. I couldn't do it. I failed. And I failed Abby, and I'll be _damned_ if I'm going to go in there and watch her suffer for my mistakes."

Ducky let Tony go, not wanting to hurt him by restraining him. The doctor in him shuddered to think of the damage the young man was doing to his already injured knee. Ducky watched Tony hail a cab and stagger toward it. Ducky felt helpless and wished Jethro were here to talk some sense into the agent.

As if called forth by Ducky's thoughts, Gibbs appeared through the glass doors lining the hospital's entrance. He ran to where Tony struggled valiantly toward the waiting cab. Ducky watched from the parking lot as Gibbs dragged Tony to a bench and sent the cabbie on his way. He made his way toward the rain-soaked pair, straining to hear what Tony was yelling.

"—and I doubt she'll even want to look at me so I'll die before I go in there and cause her more pain. Get your hands _off _me!" Tony shouted at Gibbs as Ducky approached. Gibbs didn't release the hold he had on Tony's lapels.

"Listen to me, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, the steel in his voice hiding the concern he was feeling. "She's fine. He didn't hurt her. Are you listening to me? Stop fighting me."

Tony stopped struggling. He was never one to disobey a direct order from his boss. "I'm not going in there."

"Do you know why I came out here?" Gibbs asked, squinting in the suddenly driving rain. Fat drops ran like tears down his and his agent's face. Tony just stared blankly at him. "I came out here to call you. To find out where the hell you were."

"Why?" Tony asked quietly. "Why does it matter? I don't matter. Just Abby. Just so she's safe."

Gibbs said softly, "I had to find you because she wanted me to. Tony, she's asking for you."


	19. Chapter 19

Tony was expecting to be led to a room so he hadn't quite had time to shove his features into the proper mask when she came flying at him in the ER waiting room.

He opened his arms and felt her check up before she crashed into his sodden embrace. Even a kidnapping at gunpoint couldn't erase the spirit that was so genuinely _Abby_ that she didn't want to hurt him.

Tony was acutely aware of Gibbs and Ducky—and an entire metro ER—watching them. He didn't speak, wasn't sure he knew what to say or if he could even put a voice to the swirling thoughts in his head. He was concerned, though, that Abby hadn't spoken. The girl was nothing if not a motormouth.

He just held her, unsure who was shaking harder, until she said, "You're soaked."

She pulled back and stared into his eyes. He opened his mouth to try to speak, but she said, "I swear to all things holy, DiNozzo, if you apologize, I'll headslap you into next week."

"Abby, I …"

The lost look in his eyes broke her heart. She gave him her best smile. "To borrow your line, Tony, I'm fine. He didn't hurt me. He _said_ he was going to do a lot of things, and having someone's blood splattered all over you is a little unsettling, but I swear, Tony, I am fine." She wiggled her shoulders under his hands. "I've never felt safer than when I'm with you, and that's not going to change. And before you say it, we both know he would have shot me if you had tried to play the hero. You did what you had to to keep me safe. You did, and I am. Because of you. Now, let's go get your hand looked at, and then I'm taking you home. To _my _home, though."

A dark look passed through his tired eyes at that statement. _She talked a good game, but …_

"Oh, Tony," she sighed. "We're going back to my place for one simple reason."

He thought he knew what it was, and he began formulating a plan to help her overcome the ordeal she'd been through.

She was shaking her head, and it made him wonder if she was psychic.

"I know you, DiNozzo," she said, leading him toward the ER check-in station. "And there's no way you got that door fixed already."

***

Tony awoke in the early hours of the next morning. His leg was propped up and his newly splinted hand was resting on his chest as he lay in Abby's bed. He reached out and felt only the black satin sheets. He struggled to sit up and couldn't quite suppress a groan as pain rippled through his body.

"Tony? You okay?" Abby's voice came to him from her perch on an antique brocade chair near the window.

She was suddenly beside him, sitting cross-legged and touching his bare shoulder gently. Through his haze of painkillers, residual pain and tiredness, he wondered if he was wearing pants and what might have happened during the foggy hours since they'd left the ER after assuring Gibbs and Ducky that they'd be fine together. He shook the thought from his head. They were just friends and had never crossed the line into anything more. After all the nights they'd returned to one apartment or the other, blind drunk, and nothing had happened, there was no reason to worry now.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, and he tried to read her voice. All he heard was concern.

A hint of a smile touched his lips. "About us. You're the best friend I've ever had, Abbs." He looked down. "I don't deserve you."

"Hey," she said softly, snuggling closer to him. "Don't say that. How many times have you held my hand while I worked through some grief or another? After Gibbs left to sun himself in Mexico, who was there for me? For all of us?"

"Holy random memory, Batman," he joked softly. "Where'd that come from?"

She held his green eyes with her own. "I think he was upset that I came home with you. I didn't let him go all papa bear on me."

"Gibbs, jealous?" Tony asked, settling back against the satiny pillowcase. Abby curled at his side, ever mindful of his sore ribs.

"Not jealous," she said, drawing a shiver from him as she traced the bootprint-shaped bruise on his side. "Just … Well, we both know Gibbs is only happy if he's in charge. He doesn't hand off what he sees as his responsibility. … Except Mexico, but that's a whole different conversation, and we've already had it."

"I thought he was letting SWAT go in to get you," Tony mused, half-smiling in the darkness and relishing the warm body beside him. "I had no idea he went in with them until he came out with you."

She was quiet. He said, "Are you really okay, Abbs?" He craned his neck to look down at the woman tucked against him. "It's okay to not be okay."

She met his eyes. "I'm still breathing, Tony. If I've learned anything in my years on this job, it's that you can't take that for granted. I mean, look at you. You've been hurt by three different people in less than a week, but here we are. And you were more worried about me than you were for yourself. You need to chill out, DiNozzo. I know you want to do the right thing—the perfect thing—every time, but that's just not possible. And believe me when I tell you that you get it right more than most. Way more."

"Thanks, Abbs. You always know what to say."

She reached up and placed a gentle kiss on the bruise at the corner of his mouth. "And you always know what to do. If you hadn't gotten my message in the books, who knows what would have happened."

"You know, I almost forgot about that. That was brilliant, Abbs."

She shrugged, then looked over to the window at the rising sun and grimaced. "I know what else you probably forgot."

"Hmmm?" he asked sleepily.

"It's Tuesday," she said, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, she said, "And you have a date with a surgeon this morning."

He groaned and she knew it had little to do with physical pain. "What time is it?"

She lifted up on an elbow to look at the clock. "Almost six. You need to be at the hospital by seven to check in. We'd better get moving."

He made another noise, low in his throat, and she laughed. "Don't worry, Tony. You're going to be fine, and I'll take good care of you."

"I know you will," he said, pondering the reflective look on his friend's face. "What?"

The reflection was apparently amusing, he thought, because there was a sudden glint in her eye.

"If Davey weren't chillin' in Corpseville, I'd thank him. Because of my 'ordeal,' Vance gave me the week off. Looks like you're stuck here with 'Nurse Abby' 24/7 this week."

He heard the mocking in her voice when she said "ordeal" like it was a joke and wondered how he'd ever thought that she would be anything but fine after this. He gave her his first real smile in a week.

"I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be."

**A/N: ** Well friends, that's all of it. Thanks to everyone who has been reading, and an extra-special thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I hope you enjoyed!


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